


Bending and Breaking

by Lavavulture



Series: The Sea Is Changeless (But People Are Not Fish) [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Brief Cole/Zevran Arainai/Iron Bull - Freeform, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light BDSM, M/M, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Iron Bull and Cole navigate their complicated new relationship the Inquisition continues to grow around them, inspiring complex problems and surprising allies while their friends form unexpected bonds.  Soon Iron Bull is forced confront his nature once again and Cole finally decides what his really is. </p><p>Then the trouble actually starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Track A

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I try to work on anything else more of this series pops out of me. It's actually a serious problem. I really need to clean out my sink. I hope you all enjoy.

_“I would like that.” Cole wrapped his hands around his horns and pulled. “I like belonging to you.”_

Iron Bull collapsed heavily onto his bed, pulling Cole up against him for an eager kiss. He tasted like him and if he hadn’t just come he probably would have gotten hard again just from the knowledge that Cole had worked his cock like he was getting paid for it.

“That was a great first try, Kid,” Iron Bull said in what was a bit of an understatement. Cole wriggled in pleasure against him and Iron Bull became aware of his hard erection pressing into his stomach. He shook his head. He must have drunk more with his boys than he thought if he'd forgotten about his partner’s needs because of an inexperienced blowjob. An enthusiastic, earnest inexperienced blowjob that had thrown him for such a loop that he was already anticipating the next one. He wondered if the kid actually needed to breathe at all.

“I’m glad that you liked it, The Iron Bull,” Cole said happily. He buried his face in Iron Bull’s neck, eager tongue flicking out a moment to lick at a scar. 

“Oh, I more than liked it,” Iron Bull reassured him and then reached down to take his cock in hand. Cole sighed in relief, pressing every inch of himself that he could against him as Iron Bull began stroking him.

It didn’t take long before Cole spilled over his thick fingers, his hot cries thick in Iron Bull’s ears. Iron Bull held him close as he shivered his way to the end, feeling it tug a bit at his spent body. He’d had a pretty stressful past few days but this was a great way to unwind

“Are you going to sleep here again?” Iron Bull asked Cole sleepily. He really should wake up early and see the Chargers off on their mission. He’d miss the bastards while they were gone.

Cole thought for a moment and then asked in a cautious voice, “I’m not tired tonight. Can I go talk to Varric instead?”

“Not tired?” Iron Bull reached down, cupping Cole’s ass in and squeezing. “I must not have done my job right. I’ll have to fix that tomorrow night.” 

Cole didn’t say anything, still looking at him with big eyes. Iron Bull had never really noticed how blue they were before. They were always covered up by his unkempt hair and sunken into his gaunt face but they were a shocking and piercing shade of blue.

Iron Bull realized he was still waiting for permission to go and grinned. Cole was so randomly obedient. 

“Of course you can go hang out with Varric. You can always do something else.” Iron Bull bit lightly at his ear, licking the mark he raised and enjoying Cole’s soft gasp. “I’ll miss having you here to keep me warm though.”

“I’ll come back as soon as I’m done,” Cole said quickly.

Iron Bull laughed. He’d been joking but he did like the idea of Cole being there when he woke up, curled up against him like it was his favorite place to be.

“That sounds pretty good to me,” Iron Bull said and watched with a hooded eye as Cole got dressed. Exhaustion was pressing down on him but he had enough awareness to feel satisfaction over his decision to pursue this relationship. It was turning out pretty great.

 

“This was a mistake,” Cassandra said solemnly. She was stiff in Varric’s bed, her hard eyes glaring a hole into his Antivan-imported crimson bedsheets. 

“Really? I thought we really overcame that whole height difference thing this time.” Varric tried to grin in the roguish way that Isabela had once told him could seduce a Chantry Mother but it slipped off of his face when Cassandra fixed her heavy stare on him.

“Do not mock me. I may deserve your ridicule for my weakness but I will not tolerate it now.” Cassandra pushed herself off of the bed and began dressing with swift, angry movements. 

Varric sat up more on the bed and sighed heavily. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt guilty. Perhaps it was because Cassandra looked more vulnerable than he’d ever thought was possible for her as she attempted to find her underthings behind his dresser. 

“It wasn’t a weakness, Seeker. You were feeling bad about that crazy cult and I was feeling bad about Hawke. We both needed comfort and tripped over each other. It happens.” Varric almost bit his tongue as soon as he finished talking because Cassandra whirled on him, lovely face furious even as she tried to tie the laces on her shirt. 

“It does not happen to me! I accepted that as an excuse the first time but it is no longer convincing, if ever it was. What possible reason could be given if it happens again?”

He knew it was a mistake even as he opened his mouth. “So you are planning on a next time, Seeker? I did have a great idea involving my Orlesian armchair.”

Cassandra made the most disgusted of all the disgusted noises she’d ever made at him and marched out of his room, leaving his door partially open. As he listened to her stomping away he suddenly heard her raise her voice in alarm.

“Cole! How long have you been lurking here?” 

Varric swore and started searching his floor for his trousers. He could hear Cole’s confused voice and pictured the image that Cassandra made, hair even more disheveled and half of her clothes in her hands.

“I wasn’t lurking. I wanted to talk to Varric.”

“You did not see me here,” Cassandra said in a dangerous tone and resumed her heavy march down the hallway.

Varric managed to finish fastening his trousers as Cole paused outside of his open door. To Varric’s surprise Cole actually knocked tentatively on it, unfortunately causing it to open all the way just as he was attempting to reach for a shirt. He changed the motion at the last minute and let himself fall into an awkward lounge on his bed.

“Hey, Kid,” Varric said with false cheer, mindful that the kid had been through a lot the past couple of days and didn’t need him making it worse. Although Cole looked positively cheerful at the moment, his normally melancholy face flushed a bit with contentment. 

Cole blinked at him spread out on the bed in a faux-casual fashion. His eyes slid down for the briefest of moments to Varric’s broad chest and for the first time in his life Varric felt like covering up. He knew that the kid had discovered his hand in a big way during their last trip but he really didn’t want to think about Cole fantasizing about anything, especially in regards to him.

Varric cleared his throat and sat up on the bed in a way that he hoped looked natural. “So, Kid, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Cole’s face creased with puzzlement. “Why did Cassandra say that I didn’t see her here? I did see her. She can’t make herself disappear. Is she trying to?”

“She probably was,” Varric muttered but louder he laughed and said, “The Seeker’s probably just embarrassed about trying to read my new book early.”

He wondered how pointless it was to try to lie to Cole but he knew it was harder for him to read dwarves and hopefully he hadn’t had his little feelers out when he’d been talking to Cassandra. She really would kill him if Cole started talking about their whatever it was while they were out chasing bears for the Inquisitor.

“Oh,” Cole said, apparently satisfied with that excuse. He looked around the room for a moment as though he was trying to build up his courage to say something. To Varric’s horror he saw one of Cassandra’s gloves wedged in the intricate Dalish vase Merrill had given him for his birthday three years ago.

“You can read it too. You know, when I look it over a couple more times,” Varric said quickly and then realized that he had just committed himself to writing more of that terrible romance novel. 

Maybe Cassandra would be less furious with him if he did. And then maybe she would be tempted to try his chair idea. Varric was lost for a moment at the thought, horribly aware that he was actually fantasizing about her long human legs instead of being turned off by them. He was losing his Maker-made mind. 

“I would like that,” Cole said, turning his attention back to him. Cole paused again, playing with his shirt sleeves. Varric noticed that he wasn’t wearing the bandages around his hands and that there were faint marks around his wrists. He frowned and was about to ask about them when Cole plucked up his courage to talk again.

“I wanted to talk to you now so that you wouldn’t be mad.” Cole avoided his eyes and pulled harder on a lose string on his shirt. “I don’t want you to think bad thoughts about him because of me.”

“Kid, what are you talking about? Who’s him?” Varric asked. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and he hoped that he was just being paranoid. 

“The Iron Bull,” Cole said firmly and his face temporarily brightened before worry spread over it again. Varric’s stomach sand even lower.

“What about him?” Varric asked in a flat tone.

Cole actually blushed. “He’s being kind to me. He gives people what they need.”

Varric closed his eyes for a moment and wondered if he could convince his friends to come visit him long enough to kill and hide the body of an oversized, oversexed Qunari. Isabela would probably go for it.

“Are you,” Varric began and his silver tongue failed him for the third time in the past hour. “Are you telling me that he had sex with you? Again?”

Cole nodded. “And again. Just now. I didn’t feel like sleeping this time so I left to talk to you.”

“I really am going to kill him this time,” Varric said, getting up out of bed and pacing his floor in agitation. “What is he even thinking?”

“Don’t, Varric!” Cole sounded horrified and when Varric stopped to look at him, he was shocked to see his hands reaching for his daggers. Cole’s fingers twitched around the handles. “I don’t want to hurt you ever, but I can’t let you kill The Iron Bull.” 

“Woah, Kid.” Varric raised his hands up. “It’s a figure of speech. I’m not actually going to kill him.”

He really hoped Cole couldn’t read his mind right now because he wasn’t even sure if he was lying or not.

“You’re not going to kill him?” Cole’s hands relaxed away from his daggers and he looked profoundly relieved. “I’m glad, Varric. I would have thrown myself off of a cliff if I had to kill you and Lavellan would have been unhappy.”

“You have a way of understating things. Let’s get away from talking about killing people and discuss this.” Varric waved Cole over to his chair and then settled back onto the bed. He leaned forward and regarded him for a long, serious moment. “I’m worried about this. I’m worried about you.”

Cole shook his head. “You shouldn’t be worried. I know that you feel bad because those men made The Iron Bull have sex with me because of you but I didn’t mind. I would have done anything to protect you. It was better than what their leader wanted, breaking and tearing until I was bleeding and crying.”

“Enough.” Varric held up his hand again, feeling those words rattle around in him like sharp barbs. He couldn’t even imagine having the exact image in his head of how someone wanted to hurt him and still volunteering for it. It made him feel sick and angry. He was tired of martyrs.

Cole put his hands together, twisting them. “I didn’t mean to make you hurt again. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know that I’m happy that it was The Iron Bull and I’m happy that he still wanted me after.”

“Kid, I get that becoming more human could mean sex and all the bullshit that goes along with it but are you sure that it’s you wanting it and not just Tiny? He loves fucking but not everybody does. You don’t have to just because he wants it.”

“I know,” Cole said. “I didn’t want to before. But I do now. He helped me know what my body likes and I’m glad.”

“I don’t want to hear details,” Varric said quickly. “I already know too much about that.”

“The real Cole.” Cole hesitated. “The first Cole, he never got to know that sex could be good and not used to hurt or control. I like knowing. I can live the life he wanted to have, the Cole that’s not hurting or hurtful.”

Varric sighed. Cole had brought out the heavy artillery. He’d back pretty much anything that made the kid feel better about the life he had stuck in his head.

“I don’t like this,” Varric said firmly. “I think Tiny is moving too fast and I don’t think he’s going to be careful with your feelings.”

Cole lowered his head, looking downcast. Varric sighed again.

“But it’s not my decision to make. People make bad relationship choices all the time. It’s practically a rite of passage.” Varric rubbed his chin and wondered if he’d ever made a good relationship choice. “So you do what you want to do and I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Varric,” Cole said, relief flooding his sad eyes.

Varric held up one hand, shaking his head. “Don’t thank me, Kid. It’s a bad idea. But you can come to me anytime you need help or advice, even if it’s about you and Tiny. I’m your friend so I’m going to support you until you hopefully come to your senses.”

“Where are my senses now?” Cole tilted his head. 

Varric shook his head. “We need to have a little lesson on metaphors. I think it’ll make your life a lot easier.”

 

Cole crept silently into Iron Bull’s room and stood a moment, staring at him in the dark. He knew that he shouldn’t but he let himself peek briefly into Iron Bull’s unconscious mind. Out of all the things that interested him about people, he was fascinated the most by their dreams. People dreamt all night long, mostly of everyday activities but sometimes of strange and impossible things. 

Iron Bull was dreaming of fighting on the Storm Coast against waves and waves of Venatori mages. Far off in the waters a massive Qunari dreadnought was firing on the shores. He was happy in the dream because he knew that he would kill all of the mages before they could even think of getting up the cliffs to where the Chargers were watching the fight. His men would be safe and the Qunari would join with the Inquisition in a glorious alliance that would make them all more powerful.

Cole watched this fight for a moment curiously and wondered what the inside of the Qunari dreadnought was like. He wondered if he would ever see it or if Iron Bull would ever let him see it in his mind. Of course Iron Bull had told him to stay out of his head while he was in his room and he’d disobeyed. Again. 

With a shamed frown Cole slid into bed next to Iron Bull and curled up close, pushing up under his massive arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, very quietly. 

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Iron Bull hummed, waking up long enough to clutch at the back of his neck and murmur to him, “Go to sleep, little demon.”

Cole sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he concentrated really hard he could fall asleep when he wasn’t tired. People slept every night so it might be something they learned with practice. Maybe he would ask Solas to give him lessons tomorrow. 

As he lay there, held loosely against Iron Bull’s warm body he thought back to his encounter with Varric earlier. He wondered again why Cassandra had pretended to be invisible and why Varric had lied when he’d asked him why. Cassandra had to have been there because otherwise she couldn’t have had sex with Varric and she had. It had been clear as daylight in the flustered worry in her head, fantasies colliding with regret in order to form a frustrated wall that she was throwing herself against with abandon.

Maybe he would ask her tomorrow after Solas taught him how to sleep. 

 

Dorian listened with mounting irritation as the quartermaster flirted ineptly with the flighty elven librarian. Their idiotic banter was distracting him away from the tome on Dalish history that he’d been determinedly working his way through despite its questionable references. Solas had said something politely disdainful when he’d seen it but had refused to suggest anything better. Still Lavellan’s face had lit up when he’d opened it up in bed and started reading so he thought it was worth pushing past the shoddy footnotes.

“I wondered if you had in a copy of Lord Hetterley’s _Dreams of the Tower_?” Sir Morris always sounded like he was either ending his sentences with question marks or exclamation points and it drove Dorian up the wall. Also _Dreams of the Towers_ was ridiculous trash only fit for the illiterate. He’d heard that it was insanely popular in the Circles.

“Oh, I love that book,” the librarian said excitedly. Dorian had pointedly not learned his name because he was honestly the most incompetent librarian he’d ever met. Dorian wasn’t sure what criteria he used to select books but he was growing convinced that he did it based entirely on covers. It was the only reason he could think of that they had almost fifty fucking copies of _Hard in Hightown_.

“Me too?” Sir Morris sounded so uncertain at his own supposed opinion that Dorian was tempted to throw his book at him. He wondered how long it would take them to tumble into bed together and if he was going to have to listen to their drivel until then. The thought was maddening.

“Hello, Cole,” Solas said down in his room and Dorian stopped hating the would-be lovers long enough to be surprised. Cole rarely ventured into this part of the Skyhold, at least not visibly. 

“Hello, Solas,” Cole said in the vague, hesitant way he spoke when he wasn’t reading people’s minds. Dorian thought that it was rather sweet, like if a squirrel had learned how to speak the Common Tongue.

“Did you enjoy your journey with the Inquisitor?” Solas asked and Dorian set his book down hard on his lap in his eagerness to hear that response. While he’d heard no end of it from Lavellan and then some the other day from Iron Bull, he’d yet to hear what Cole had to say about the situation. He wondered if he would actually say right there where everyone in the tower could hear. It would be interesting to hear Cole spill his own intimate secrets for once and despite the fact that Dorian was convinced that he had suffered no lasting damage from the incident, he did want to hear it confirmed from him directly.

“Yes,” Cole said and there was a pause that Dorian imagined was filled with the two of them staring expectantly at each other. Solas could stare like a champion but Cole didn’t need to blink.

“And what brings you here today, Cole?” Solas finally asked. “Not that you can’t spend time with me if you wish. But I imagine you have a reason you came.”

“Sorry, yes. I was listening to Leliana. She's pulled too thin right now, brittle and hard. She’s hoping that her friend will write her back soon so that she’ll know that she’s still her.”

“I imagine she is,” Solas said magnanimously. “Is that what you wanted to discuss?”

“No.” Another pause and even though Dorian was eavesdropping and therefore had no real stake in the conversation, he wanted to tell Cole to get on with it already. “I want you to teach me how to sleep properly so that I can sleep when The Iron Bull does.”

A long pause. “I can certainly teach you meditation exercises that may help you sleep. However why is it important to be asleep when Iron Bull is sleeping?”

“After we have sex he wants to sleep and he likes me to be there with him. But I can’t always sleep and he doesn’t want me to be in anyone’s mind while I’m in his room so the night is stretched too long and my legs feel impatient from being still for so long.”

Dorian almost chuckled at the next pause. If it wasn’t completely beneath his dignity he would have peeked over the railing just to see the look on Solas’s face.

“I’m sorry, Cole, I think I misheard you. Can you please explain it to me again?” Solas sounded almost shocked, which was delightful to Dorian, but there was a growing little sliver of something else in his voice that was almost frightening. 

He really wouldn’t want to be Iron Bull today.


	2. Track B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we move forward three years to where it is (temporarily) more complicated.

_Iron Bull stared at her for a long moment. “Yeah, I’m going to need a lot more than that.”_

Surana breathed out a slow sigh. “I can’t tell you more right now.”

“Really?” Iron Bull crossed his thick arms over his chest and nodded to Cole, close and silent as a shadow. “If you know where the Divine is, you’re going to tell me so I can go home already. One way or another. Right, Kid?”

“Yes,” Cole said, his eyes intent on the Warden. 

At Surana’s side Zevran casually laid his hand on his sword hilt but the Warden shook her head at him and turned her attention on Cole. She spread her arms wide in an invitation.

“I was warned of you, spirit. I’ll learn now if my deepest secrets are safe.”

Cole lowered his face as he concentrated, his hat shadowing his pointed features. “Clashing, biting, grasping in the dark tunnels as the creatures gather close and the broodmother calls. Not helpful. A rose, shy glances over firelight, betrayal on both sides. Not helpful.”

“Kid?” Iron Bull said cautiously. Cole looked pale under the shadow of his hat. He’d grown more proficient over the years at more focused readings but now his proficiency seemed to have disappeared.

“The dragon screams, what if she was wrong, what if this is the last moment? _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_. Not helpful.” Cole lifted his hand to his face, shaking. “The dreams begin, false and foul, everywhere and in everyone. There must be a way to save them. Save him. Ah!”

Cole fell to his knees with a pained cry. He pulled his hand away from his face and stared at the blood on it like it had to belong to someone else despite trickles still slipping from his nose. Iron Bull put his hands on his shoulders and glared at Surana.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop right now or I’m going to be the guy that killed the Hero of Ferelden. ”

“I’m not doing it,” Surana said, her eyes bright and feverish.

“Teeth clenched shut, barring the gates. This isn’t for you, my friend. I apologize.” Cole gasped out the last bit in a stilted voice and swallowed hard. He turned his face up to Iron Bull. “I can't get in anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, _kadan_ ,” Iron Bull murmured in a voice too low to be heard by anyone but Cole. “You did good.”

“He’s not hurt. It was just a warning.” Surana put her hands up in a placating way when the Chargers drew their weapons. “I didn’t come here to fight. I want you to take me to the Inquisitor. I can explain everything to him.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m that eager to take you to the leader of the Inquisition after this.” Iron Bull gently helped Cole to his feet. “I’m thinking more about trying out some more traditional interrogation tactics until you cough up the Divine.”

“You always have a way of making bad situations so much more devilish, my dove,” Zevran muttered, hand still firm on his sword.

“I knew that you would be hesitant to listen to me. It’s why I brought her.” Surana looked behind her shoulder and suddenly two other elven women emerged out of the ground in an explosion of rocks and dirt.

One of the women was tall and blonde with a haughty expression her face. The other was small and dark-haired and very familiar.

“Merrill!” Cole exclaimed happily and tried moving towards her. Iron Bull hooked his fingers into the back of Cole’s jacket and yanked him back.

“Nope, we’re still suspicious right now.” Iron Bull nodded at Merrill. “Hello, Merrill. What the fuck is going on? And why can everybody fucking just walk into my camp? Do I even have guards anymore?”

“The forest protects and provides for its children,” the blonde woman said sharply.

“Weird answers don’t count.” Iron Bull rubbed his suddenly aching head.

“Hello, Cole. Everyone.” Merrill smiled her familiar sunny smile but there were stressful lines around her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this must all be very confusing.”

“Why are we wasting time with these people?” The blonde woman glared at Surana after running judgmental eyes over the few Chargers at the campsite. “We should head straight for _Tarasyl’an Te’las_.”

“Not while people are still looking for Leliana. And he told us to bring the boy. Please be patient, Velanna.” Surana rubbed her own head in obvious frustration. 

“Merrill.” Iron Bull focused his full attention on her.

“We can only tell the whole story when we meet with the Inquisitor. Those were his orders. But I promise that you can trust us. We’re trying to save the world.” Merrill bit her lip in sudden nervousness. “It sounds really silly when I say it like that. But it’s true.”

Iron Bull frowned deeper but let go of Cole’s shirt collar. Cole immediately zeroed in on Merrill who wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders eagerly.

“Does that hurt?” Merrill said with a sympathetic wince as she pressed a cloth to his face. “I worried what would happen but I suppose there’s no harm done. A little blood never hurt anyone. Well, that’s not true. Mine has hurt quite a few people. But they all deserved it.”

“I can’t see in you either, Merrill,” Cole said, voice muffled into the cloth. “Why?”

“So who's pulling your strings, Warden?” Iron Bull settled down onto a nearby log and grunted, rubbing his leg hard.

Any answers the elves might have given were interrupted when Dalish and Skinner returned from escorting the Tevinter scout back to his camp. The two women came to an abrupt stop when they saw the newcomers. 

“Merrill?” Skinner said in a shocked voice.

“Hello,” Merrill said, blushing brightly and pulling away from Cole. She went over to Skinner and put her hands in hers. “I hoped you would be here. I assumed you would be. I don’t know where else you would be but you could have been somewhere else, I suppose.”

“I’m happy to see you too.” Skinner smiled, which was terrifying to anyone that wasn’t used to it, and kissed her softly.

“I beg your pardon, beautiful mercenary woman, but I believe that I know you, yes?” Zevran rubbed his chin as he looked Dalish over.

“She oversaw our wedding ceremony,” Surana told him and then flushed deeply.

“Such a lovely wedding,” Dalish murmured primly.

“Another sister. Have you heard his call as well?” Velanna asked Dalish.

“I don’t know what you could be talking about, child. I’m a simple Dalish archer.” Dalish pursed her lip together as she glared at Velanna. “I don’t hear strange calls from anyone.”

“Someone needs to make sense right now or nobody’s going anywhere.” Iron Bull stood back up, using the full effect of his height to loom over the elves.

“There’s another Orb and we want to rescue it from dangerous people before they destroy the world,” Zevran said and then shrugged grandly when Surana turned to him, eyes turned to daggers. “We were going in circles, my sweet, and I made no mystical promises if you recall.”

“You’re still one of the People, fool, and that should be enough,” Velanna snapped, raising a glowing fist.

“Enough!” Surana slammed the tip of her staff down onto the ground and a small shockwave rumbled the ground around her. “My loose-lipped husband speaks the truth. I was told of the existence of another Orb of Destruction and we’ve been working to find it.”

“Who told you?” 

Surana shook her head. “I won’t betray all of my promises. I swore only to share the truth with the Inquisitor. We need his help. And yours.”

Iron Bull considered it all for a moment. Another Orb was no joking matter and he definitely didn’t want dangerous supernatural shit falling into the wrong hands, even if it rubbed him every wrong way to be approached like this.

“I’ll take you back to Skyhold. We’ll call off the search for Leliana.” Iron Bull bared his teeth when Surana looked relieved. “For now. If the Boss tells me to go back out, I’m going and I don’t care about mystical elf bullshit telling me it’s a bad idea."

 

The journey back to Skyhold was less tense than Iron Bull might have feared. Velanna was one of the prickliest people he’d ever met but she fixated on Dalish early and mostly became her problem, with Dalish answering her pointed and personal questions with evasive flightiness and lots of drinking.

Having Merrill traveling with them was a pleasure. She never complained and was so cheerful that even angry Velanna was clearly fond of her. She held hands with Skinner over the supper fire and spent so much time talking to Cole that Iron Bull almost felt jealous. He didn’t feel jealous but he easily could have because Merrill was just that damn sweet and charming.

Zevran was a menace, flirting with everyone as though he expected to incite an orgy, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Half the camp hated him and the other half loved him, usually dependent on whether or not they were open to that mass orgy idea.

The Warden kept to herself for the most part, insisting that her and Zevran’s tent be far away. Iron Bull realized why a few days into the trip when Surana’s piercing shrieks woke him up in the middle of night. He’d stumbled out of his tent, leaving behind a peacefully sleeping Cole and saw Surana sitting in front of the fire. Zevran was at her side, cheerfully shining his sword.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Surana said, not turning around as Iron Bull approached her.

“Bad dreams, huh?”

Zevran and Surana exchanged a look and the Warden sighed. “When the Calling started for everyone during that horrible year, the Wardens panicked and did terrible things in the hope of stopping it. As you know. The Inquisitor saved them and the False Calling stopped. For most.”

“Not for you?” Iron Bull sat down beside her and examined her profile as she stared into the fire.

“Maybe it was never false for me. Maybe it was really my time. I’ve the spent the past two years searching for a cure. It’s not just for me. The King,” Surana hesitated and her face tightened more. “Alistair took his oaths before me. If I’m hearing the Call, it’s only a matter of time before he does.”

Zevran spread his legs out in front of him and looked up at the sky. Surana slipped her hand in his. “I want to save him if I can. I want to save all of us.”

“And what, you think this Orb will help?”

“It’s not about what the Orb is. It’s about where it is. And about who wants it. I can’t explain more.”

“Right, bullshit mystical promises.” Iron Bull waved his hand. “I don’t really care about Wardens or Callings or the Fereldan king but that Orb is dangerous. I don’t want anybody to have it that shouldn’t and you need to realize that I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Surana glanced over at him and nodded. “You’re a good man, Iron Bull. It speaks well of the Inquisitor. A leader is only as strong as the people that follow them.”

She leaned and kissed Zeveran softly on his forehead. “I’ve always been blessed in those that choose to follow me.”

 

“Well, they’re back early,” Varric said as he watched the faraway Charger caravan march closer to Skyhold. He was leaning over the ledge of the front ramparts. Cassandra stood straight and tall beside him, her back tense as she tried to see if Leliana was among the small figures coming towards them. 

“Up!” Hawke said imperiously beside him. Varric grinned and picked her up, putting her on his shoulders. She squirmed for a moment as she looked out and then glanced over to Cassandra. She held out her hands again. “Up-up!”

“Greed’s a terrible thing, Pipsqueak,” Varric muttered but obediently handed her over to Cassandra.

To Cassandra’s credit she didn’t gloat but her worried face slipped briefly into a small smirk as she perched Hawke onto her shoulder. Hawke giggled in delight and clapped her hands.

“You know, when she gets bigger she won’t care which one of us is taller and I’ll be the favorite again,” Varric said sourly.

“It’s admirable to hold tight to your dreams, dwarf, however foolish they may be.” Cassandra lay the hand not holding Hawke down onto Varric’s shoulder consolingly.

“Is that Daisy?” Varric asked in surprise, squinting down at the thin, dark-haired figure.

“It appears so. But Leliana is not with them.” Cassandra squeezed Varric’s shoulder, almost too hard, and closed her eyes. “Where is she?”

“Who are those other people?” Varric made eye contact with one of the guards. “Tell the Inquisitor that the Chargers are back. With guests.”

 

“How can you be so much bigger?” Merrill cooed, pressing her face into Hawke’s little fists. “Not terribly bigger, of course, you’re still very tiny.”

Hawke patted her face and smiled. “Daisum.”

“She said my name!” Merrill gasped. “Of sorts.”

“I’m guessing you’re not here for Hawke’s birthday, Daisy.” Varric leaned back in one of the Inquisitor’s plush Tevinter chairs. 

Once Lavellan had gotten a taste for it, he’d taken complete advantage of the Imperium’s custom of giving gifts to their allies. He’d redone most of the castle in fine Tevinter antiquities. Once Dorian had examined a table for several minutes and realized that it had come from his own family’s dining hall.

“I’m on an important quest, Varric. It’s very exciting. But frightening. I haven’t slept a wink in days.”

“I’ve had trouble sleeping myself,” Lavellan said as he entered the room. He was quickly followed by most of the members of the Inquisition, with the exception of Cullen and Josephine, who were still off on their own assignments.

Lavellan sat down in the largest chair and propped his hands on the shoulders, bringing his fingers to his face as he stared at Surana and the others. Dorian sat beside him, sitting straight and proper like an Orlesian courtesan. Most outside of the Inquisition regarded him with deep suspicion, especially once the Imperium had extended their arm in friendship. 

“Iron Bull tells me that you’re in search of another Orb of Destruction. Where is it and how have you come by this information?” Lavellan spoke in the curt tones that he was famous for using even in the most delicate of diplomatic situations.”

Surana glanced around the crowded room. “You may wish to discuss this in private, Inquisitor.”

“I may. But I won’t. Anything that you say to me will be said to my Inquisition.”

“As you will it.” Surana took a deep breath. “The Orb is deep in the heart of Minrathous. It lay dormant there for centuries, hidden in the catacombs under the city. I have reason to believe that it was discovered recently and is being kept in secrecy.”

“Is this connected to Leliana’s disappearance?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes.” Surana lowered her head. “When I was told of the Orb’s existence I knew that I needed more information. There was no one else I trusted more for this than Leliana. She has not contacted me yet with the Orb’s location but I know that she will soon.”

“You sent the Most Holy into the belly of the Tevinter Imperium!” Cassandra stood, fists clenched. Hawke stared up at her and began to cry. “You sent her into the seat of the Black Divine on your whims!” 

“It wasn’t a whim.” Surana clenched the arms of her chair with white knuckles. “It was told to me, to all of us here, by one of the Creators.”

Silence met this explanation.

“Oh, good. At least it was someone reliable.” Varric bounced Hawke on his knee until her fretful cries grew to quiet whimpers. 

“It’s true, Varric. I saw him myself. Elgar’nan. The All-Father.” Merrill’s face glowed with wonder. “He spoke to me through my Eluvian.”

“Yeah, I would trust that thing. I’m sure it’s not like the last time when that demon came out and ate your Keeper.”

“The All-Father,” Lavellan murmured over Merrill’s hurt gasp. He leaned back and his chair and looked at Dorian. “I’ve had odd dreams of late myself.”

“He’s spoken to you as well. I knew that he had. This is why he sent me to you.” Surana looked profoundly relieved and exhausted. “The Call grows stronger every single day. I don’t know how much longer I can ignore it. I need your help.”

“It’s not the All-Father that’s speaking to you,” Lavellan said sharply.

“How can you doubt him? If you’ve seen him then you know that he’s a Creator!” Velanna looked outraged at his statement.

“Yes, he is a Creator. And a Forgotten One. And a man that I called my friend.” Lavellan stared down at the mark on his hand. “You’ve been fooled by the Lord of Tricksters. Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf.”

Lavellan paused. “I knew him as Solas.”


	3. Track A

Cassandra hit the training dummy in front of her so hard that bits of it flew off and smacked against the wall. She snarled when her practice sword cracked after one more strike. Useless, cheap garbage. She would have stern words with the Quartermaster about procuring sturdier equipment for the Inquisition. This was an outrage.

“That was the strongest one he could find,” Cole said in a soft voice behind her. “Yelling won’t make it stronger than you.”

With growing irritation Cassandra whirled around to see Cole standing in the shadows by a wall, watching her with a face obscured by the wide brim of his hat. She held up a warning finger. 

“I’m in no mood for your meddling today, Cole. Find somewhere else to be.”

Instead of leaving Cole plopped down to the ground and crossed his legs together in an awkward way, his bony knees sticking out. He carefully put his hands on his knees and tipped his head up, regarding her with soft eyes.

“I want to be here. It’s too loud in the tavern and it’s warm right here.” Cole rubbed his back up against the wall like a contented cat. “Solas said that I should practice sleeping where I’m comfortable.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes but she supposed with some reluctance that Cole had every right to be wherever he wanted to be, so long as the Inquisitor continued to allow him to spy on them all. She had learned in the time since Adamant to feel a certain degree of pity for the creature. Their conversations about Seeker Lambert had been as chilling as they’d been illuminating. 

“Fine then,” Cassandra said grudgingly. “Practice. Though people generally sleep in bedrooms and not in courtyards.”

“I don’t have a bed.” Cole tilted his head, considering. “Should I get one?”

Cassandra turned her attentions to her practice sword and scowled at the large crack near the tip. “I’m certain that it does not matter to me.” 

“Your bedroom is in here, on the top floor.” Cole pressed his palm against the wall behind him, his light eyes focused inward. “But you like Varric’s room better. It’s more colorful and the sheets are soft, silken, sanguine.”

She whirled back to him, fury choking her voice as she spoke, “Do not say things like that here!”

“Where should I say them?”

“Nowhere! It is none of your business!” 

“I don’t understand,” Cole shrank back a bit as Cassandra stalked up to him but he still looked up at her with determined eyes. “You like having sex with Varric but you don’t like Varric. Deceptive and disarming, a silver-tongued snake, sneaky and spurious. But you do like Varric at the same time. Creative and compassionate, a loyal friend even when it’s dangerous, damning, debilitating.” 

Cole paused to take in a breath, his thin chest rising rapidly. “You’re feeling too much and it’s all against each other.”

Cassandra regarded Cole for a moment, her anger hitting a peak and then strangely fading away. Perhaps it was because Cole looked so confused, his puzzlement making him appear closer to the young man he seemed like he was. Surely she’d never been so young.

“Sometimes people have complicated thoughts about other people.” Cassandra put her hand on her hip and sighed heavily. “Do not concern yourself about Varric and me, Cole. We have made some mistakes but they will not be repeated.”

“Why?” 

With another heavy sigh Cassandra sat down onto the ground, settling down into a straight-backed version of the sloppy position Cole had twisted his body in. “Because I do not want them to. I am not a fool but I do want love in my life, romance built of passion and respect. That is not in Varric’s nature so there is no point in our continuing our mistakes.”

“Oh,” Cole said and looked so sad that someone passing by would have thought that she was ending a relationship with him. “Varric will be disappointed.”

“He will be fine.” Cassandra was certain of this. Cole might admire Varric a great deal but Cassandra knew him better. Their dalliance was a mere diversion for him.

 

Iron Bull was having one hell of a relaxing morning. He’d woken up early, refreshed and satisfied, with Cole curled up under his arm like a sweet present. They’d spent a little more time than they should have lazily kissing on the bed before Iron Bull had left to see his Chargers out on the road. They’d looked strong, like they always did, and his chest puffed out with pride to see them marching down the mountain. His boys.

Then he’d put himself through his morning paces, exercising hard and then flirting with the giggling serving girls until they slipped him extra breakfast. 

A few hours later he was drinking a strong cup of tea in his favorite chair and writing his weekly missive back to his superiors. Of course he didn’t send it out anymore but it was such an old habit that he couldn’t stop. He’d thought of giving them to the Inquisitor instead but then he’d have to translate them and it really seemed like more work than it was worth.

He sniffed a bit as a familiar smell wafted past his nose for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning. The smell reminded him of his Tama bustling around in the morning, yawning dramatically at the sleepiest children as she settled them into their daily routines.

After a few moments of searching around his chair he found a dark red flower tucked up into a hole in the wood under him. He smelled it and felt a strong wave of contentment wash over him. Tama had always had a bouquet of them on the table even though they died quickly and served no real purpose. She said that they made her like them all better when he’d asked her about them and then she’d tied the long stem of one around his horn where he couldn’t quite reach since his growth spurt.

To his left a board creaked and he turned his head fully to see who was over there. Before this morning the boards had never creaked but it was nice today since Krem wasn’t there to keep watch for him.

The intruder was Solas, which was pretty surprising. He rarely ventured out of his nest. Solas had an aggressively neutral expression on his face as he came closer.

“May I sit with you a moment, Iron Bull?” Solas asked in his mild way.

“Knock yourself out.” Iron Bull nodded to the chair beside him. He set the flower down on the bench and picked his cup back up. “Want some tea?”

“No, thank you. I’m surprised that you enjoy it.”

“Because I’m a savage Qunari?” Iron Bull grinned in a challenging way to take the bite out of his words.

“No, because tea is awful. I would prefer a strong ale myself.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still early.”

“Yes.” Solas cleared his throat. “Obviously I haven’t come to discuss beverages.”

“Okay?”

“Cole came to see me this morning.” Solas let his comment float between them for a weighted moment.

“Yeah?” Iron Bull grunted disinterestedly. He’d already received an exasperated look from Varric across the yard so he wasn’t surprised.

“He asked me to teach him how to fall to sleep. So that after you and he have sex, he can fall asleep with you.” Solas waited again.

Iron Bull chuckled. He would have paid good money to have heard that conversation. “That’s sweet of him. Were you able to help him out with that?”

Solas smoothed his hand over his staff. “I taught him a few meditation exercises. I have no idea if a spirit can benefit from them but he intends to try. However the entire conversation left me with some misgivings.”

Iron Bull nodded. “And now you want to tell me to back off of him?”

“It’s not my place.” Solas closed his hand over his staff. “I’m merely curious. I was impressed when you turned away from the Qun but openly consorting with a spirit is incredibly transgressive.”

“I’m Tal-Vashoth now, that’s true.” Even just saying it made Iron Bull feel like bugs were crawling under his skin. “But just because I chose the Chargers over my people doesn’t mean I turned my back on the Qun. I still believe.”

“And everything has its place under it.” Solas leaned back in apparent satisfaction. Clearly they’d gotten to his point. “Tell me, where would Cole fit under the Qun?”

Mood soured Iron Bull narrowed his eye at Solas. Then he leaned back in his chair, lounging casually with his chin propped with nonchalance on his hand, and did the one thing he never really liked to do. He sorted a difficult person into their proper place under the Qun.

“A Tamassran would make the final decision, of course.” Iron Bull took a heavy breath and openly speculated. “He’s a demon so logically he should be destroyed. But he is an unusual sort of demon, not openly hostile, and could be salvaged. His abilities would be useful, especially among the _bas_. Reeducation and intensive training could be very effective. Then he could be a talented spy in foreign lands or a helpful tool for reeducation.”

Solas had a dark cast to his face but his voice was neutral as he spoke, “So they would likely kill him or break his mind with drugs and torture until he’s a weapon for the faith?”

“Yep.” Iron Bull mulled it over. He wasn’t the best at this sort of thing but he wasn’t female. They were the ones that had to make these decisions. “Sounds right. But he’s not under the Qun and this is all bullshit to make me feel bad for corrupting your spirit friend with my barbarian dick.”

Solas actually chuckled drily at that. “I doubt that sex alone would be enough to corrupt him. Corruption would only occur if he changed the entire focus of what he is. That is what worries me. Already he wants to change his basic nature for you. What other changes will you require?”

Iron Bull stared at Solas for a moment and then laughed, genuinely. “It bugs the shit out of you that he wants to be more human, doesn’t it? I get it, spirits are great. They’re simple and they like listening to you talk about Fade crap.”

“When he returned to the Fade at Adamant, it should have been a homecoming, a revelation.” Solas tightened his hand around his staff reflexively. “Instead he was a terrified child, lost and paralyzed with uncertainty in the place that created him. He’s no longer a spirit and it’s unlikely that he can return. But he’s not human and never truly will be. He’s a new creature and I think that he should be celebrated and encouraged in what he is, not in what you think he should be.”

Iron Bull wasn’t sure what he would have said to that outburst if just then the boards didn’t creak to his left. Solas and he looked over to see Cole coming towards them. 

“Hello,” Cole said, stopping in front of them with a worried glance at both of their faces. 

Iron Bull didn’t know if Cole was reading their minds but he put a cool, friendly grin on his face in case he wasn’t eavesdropping. He reached over and picked up the flower on the bench. “Did you stick this under my chair?”

Cole nodded. “Fresh and fragrant, it smells like home. She picks them at night when she can’t sleep and thinks of the child you used to be.”

“Come here,” Iron Bull ordered in a low voice, pulling Cole into his lap and sliding him up close. Cole cuddled in so eagerly that Iron Bull knew he’d been waiting for him to give permission for it. He gave Solas a measured look. “We should play a game while the Inquisitor is out getting soaked on the Storm Coast.”

“Dorian’s boots are wet on the inside and everything is terrible,” Cole murmured, mostly to himself. “Can we play Wicked Grace with Varric? I’m going to listen better to the people this time.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve played,” Solas said in a faraway voice. “Allow me to see if Varric is interested in playing.”

“You’re a real helpful guy, Solas,” Iron Bull said and slid his hand around the back of Cole’s neck as the apostate walked away. The boards creaked under his bare feet and Iron Bull realized something. “Did you loosen the floorboards there?”

“Yes.” Cole pressed against him happily. “So that there won’t be anything to the left of you that you don’t know is there.”

“Good boy.” Iron Bull rubbed his neck. Cole sighed and closed his eyes only to open them wide a moment later.

“Unless it’s a demon that doesn’t have to be on the floorboards!”

 

Of course Varric was up for playing and he’d gathered up everybody that was available and willing in Skyhold. Josephine had been upset that she was too busy to play but Varric promised her another game when the Inquisitor returned. Vivienne had politely refused to play since she had her elegant heart set on a long bath in the Inquisitor’s massive soaking tub and a night spent reading the books Lavellan had found for her. He’d gone all the way upstairs to ask Leliana but she was nowhere to be found. Dorian, Sera, and Blackwall were with the Inquisitor.

Varric watched the courtyards for a moment before telling himself that he was being stupid. There was no harm in asking her. Cassandra wouldn’t want to play anyway. It would involve having fun and she was firmly against any sort of frivolity. He walked over to her with all the casualness he could muster in his body. 

“We’re getting a game together. You interested?” Varric kept his voice light, with the flippant undercurrent that he knew irritated her so much.

Cassandra peered down at him and Varric was struck once again with how picturesque she was. He’d always been dismissive of dwarves that waxed poetically about other species, about their height and their relative slenderness. He’d never seen much of the appeal of limbs that stretched ungainly up to narrow hips and compact shoulders. Dwarven women were much more attractive, with all of the curves of other women and none of the wasted flesh.

However Cassandra was truly a magnificent woman, fierce and powerful and so beautiful that it was honestly distracting to him now. It reminded him of the book of optical illusions that Hawke had bought Anders for his birthday, mainly for one picture of an angry cat that would turn into a fancy woman at the right angle. Now that he’d seen the woman he couldn’t change her back into a cat in his mind.

“I suppose I will. There is no point in continuing to use this broken equipment.” Cassandra threw her practice sword to the ground and stood very straight in front of him, hands behind her back like an obedient schoolgirl. Varric swallowed.

“Right, give the sword a break for a few hours,” he said and was struck by his own unintentional double entendre. He could practically hear Hawke snickering in his head. If he was watching him from beyond like the Chantry always said then he was probably always snickering. 

If Cassandra recognized the innuendo she didn’t comment on it. She simply followed him quietly over to the tavern where Solas, Iron Bull, and Cole were already sitting around one of the biggest tables. Iron Bull was telling Solas a story about a giant, his great arm slung casually around Cole’s shoulders. Solas was peering at him with sedated interest as he gestured wildly with his other hand.

After a few moments Cullen entered the tavern and sat down at the table, grinning apologetically at everyone. “I apologize. The paperwork took a little longer than I thought.”

“That’s okay,” Cole said, very quietly, pressing himself ever closer to Iron Bull’s side when Cullen gave him a surprised look. The look lingered a moment on the two of them and the obvious intimacy that hadn’t been present before.

“Everybody remember the rules?” Varric asked, drawing attention away from Cole. Somehow Cassandra had ended up next to him at the table and when Cullen had sat down she’d been forced to move closer on the narrow bench. Her thigh was warm against his.

This was going to be a long game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really always want two options when I talk to Solas in the game. I want a 'Shut the fuck up' option and a 'Wow, you really made a good point there' option. I want to be able to use both of them at the same time all the time and that's all I'll ever say to him.


	4. Track B

_Lavellan paused. “I knew him as Solas.”_

Lavellan’s cool pronouncement was first met with a heavy silence. It only took a few moments before the silence was filled with raucous arguing. Velanna vehemently shouted at the stone-faced Inquisitor until one of her comments sent Dorian into a fit of sarcastic rejoinders. Cassandra argued with Merrill until the latter looked pale and stricken; at which point Varric overcame his own irritation long enough to defend her. Zevran occasionally offered his own witty observations, none of which seemed to be appreciated by anyone.

Meanwhile Surana went to the Inquisitor’s grand balcony and stared out over the mountains, her back straight. The heated group’s arguments slowed to a halt when she began laughing, low at first and then loud and uncontrollable.

“My dove?” Zevran offered, lifting one curious eyebrow.

Surana turned around and her face was bright from laughter. She tried to stifle her giggles but they still poked out around her words. “I sent my best friend to the Tevinter Imperium because I thought that the All-Father was speaking to an alienage hedge mage. And he turned out to be the Dalish boogeyman! It’s so astoundingly typical that it's hilarious.”

“There is no one more worthy to hear from the Creators,” Velanna said heatedly. “You may not have been raised among the People but you are more Dalish than this shem-loving liar!”

This last part was spit in Lavellan’s direction, who narrowed his eyes but put a slender hand on Dorian’s arm to keep him from responding.

Surana shook her head hard. “My brain is addled with darkspawn. I retreated into childhood dreams, listening to my father tell tales of his gods. I apologize for my grave mistake, Inquisitor.”

“Commander!” Velanna clenched her fists tightly as Surana dipped into a low bow.

“Enough, Velanna. I had so many signs that something was wrong. I refused to piece them together because I wanted to believe so strongly.” Surana walked back to where Zeveran was slouched beautifully in a lavish Tevinter chaise and she slid her hands in his. “I almost sent you instead of Leliana. I thought I was being selfish to keep you with me.”

“I would go tomorrow if you wished.” Zevran grinned and kissed her hands. “Tonight if we rushed our farewells. Although you know I hate to rush those.”

“Instead you sent the most important woman in Thedas on a fool’s errand to Tevinter.” Cassandra was still standing, stiff with anger, while Merrill had sunk into the couch beside Varric, her large eyes wider with shock.

“Not necessarily,” Lavellan murmured, settling back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Even if Solas misrepresented his divinity, the threat he shared with you all may still be real. He joined the Inquisition for one Orb and left when it was destroyed. I imagine he would be very interested in finding another.”

“Where does that leave us, Boss?” Iron Bull asked, thankful that all the fighting was turning towards something more productive. Shouting matches were pointless. He would much rather have a plan that would lead to him punching something.

“Our path seems clear. We must ascertain if the threat is real and we must ensure the Divine’s safe return from the Imperium.” Lavellan settled his staff in his lap and rubbed his thumb against the stone at the top. 

“Is that all?” Dorian muttered. “Perhaps when we’re done we can broker peace with the Qunari and teach a clutch of dragonlings to call us Papa.”

“How will you do this, Inquisitor?” Surana asked.

“The first part is relatively simple. I will ask Solas to tell me the truth or at least as much as he’s willing to tell. I have spoken with him in my dreams before. If he wishes for the Inquisition to lend its help, then he will have to ask for it.” Lavellan considered. “The rest I will plan with my Advisors.”

The Inquisitor stood up. “For now I welcome you to Skyhold, Warden-Commander. I wish that you had come under better circumstances but I will show you the Inquisition’s hospitality nonetheless.”

“You’re going to let her stay in our room, aren’t you?” Dorian asked sourly. 

 

Cassandra paced the floor of their room while Varric scribbled his notes as quickly as he could get them down. Hawke was watching Cassandra with uncertain, watery eyes from her crib.

“You’re scaring the runt, Seeker, and ruining our Nevarran rug,” Varric said, not turning his head away from his letters. He had a ton to do before he met with Lavellan in the morning and it would be ten times harder to do with Cassandra trying to destroy the keep in her bad mood.

Cassandra slowed to a stop. “This rug is an eyesore.”

“It was a gift.” Varric tried to keep his voice level when he remembered who had given it to him and when.

“I know,” Cassandra muttered darkly. “I was not amused.”

“She was just trying to be thougtful,” Varric said and almost winced at his own bald lie. Bianca was many wonderful, beautiful, clever things but she would never be accused of thoughtfulness. She had sent the rug after he’d written to her about Hawke’s birth. He was a little impressed that Bianca had researched royal Nevarran christenings but she had always liked to do research if it would cause trouble. 

Cassandra made a noise, thoroughly distracted from her anger, and turned to Hawke. She strode over and picked her up, holding her in gentle but firm arms. “I’m sorry that I shouted before. I should have kept my temper.”

Varric chuckled. Of the numerous reasons that he’d grown to love Cassandra over the years, one of his favorites was how pointedly she refused to use anything approaching baby talk with their child. She spoke to Hawke like she was an invaluable colleague or a beloved confidant. Sometimes Varric would walk into their room and find Cassandra earnestly lecturing Hawke on her plans for the Seekers under the Divine’s new order. It was adorable, although he would never tell her that for fear of losing one of his limbs.

Hawke made a confusing noise that might have been acceptance and Cassandra transferred her to a more soothing position against her shoulder, stroking her back with one hand. Soon Hawke was yawning, exhausted from their full day.

“We should see if Daisy wants to watch Hawke tonight. We could have dinner out of the keep, under the stars. I can read you my new poetry and you can call me a magnificent wordsmith, overflowing with sensuality and charisma.” Varric grinned flippantly but he was determined to see it happen. He didn’t know exactly what the next few weeks would bring but he’d put his money on Cassandra being in the thick of it.

“You are certainly overflowing with something, although I would not call it charisma,” Cassandra said but her dark eyes were light with interest at the thought of hearing new material from Varric.

“Let me get a few more ideas down here and I’ll go find Daisy.”

“I will go,” Cassandra said firmly. “I was…harsh with her. I want to apologize.”

Varric nodded slowly. Cassandra always managed to find new ways of surprising him. 

 

Iron Bull grunted with exertion as he fucked into Cole, hard and heavy and deep. Cole had struggled against him like a wild animal, biting and clawing until he’d worn him down with his greater strength and forced his way inside. He didn’t know if Cole was acting on his own anxiety or riding on Iron Bull’s frustrations but this brutal, mindless sex was exactly what he needed to feel like a civilized person again.

Cole let out a pained, eager cry and tried pushing back against the hand holding him down to the bed. Iron Bull growled out a warning. He’d tie him down if he had to and he wasn’t ashamed to think that he’d prefer it. Cole was a marvel when he was bound up tight, straining for all kinds of release except from his confinement. 

Under him Cole tried one last time to push up against the hand pressed firmly between his strong shoulders and then collapsed fully with a weak groan, accepting him with growing excitement.

“Please,” Cole gasped out and Iron Bull let his lips curl in satisfaction. He snapped his hips roughly, driving his cock further in and Cole whimpered. His own pale hand slid back and up, flexible or unmindful of the strain as he clung to the arm holding him in place. Cole pressed his wet cheek to the pillow and continued pleading, “Please, please, please.”

“That’s right,” Iron Bull said, finding his voice back from the savagery that had precipitated their coupling. “Beg me for it.”

“Yes.” Cole rolled his lean hips in a way that left Iron Bull briefly stunned and then nearly furious with lust. “Oh, yes, please.”

“What do you want?” Iron Bull demanded, slowing to a near stop and shuddering when Cole whined in protest, struggling again briefly. He moved his hand up to the back of his neck and pressed down hard. “Tell me, little demon, and I’ll give it to you.”

Cole struggled to speak against the cloth and his mounting climax. “I want to come, please, please.”

“No,” Iron Bull said roughly and held Cole’s hips tightly as he came into him. Cole moaned in disappointment and then in shrieking pleasure as Iron Bull pulled out and replaced his cock with in tongue. He tasted himself, bitter and harsh, and it made him reach under Cole, gripping his straining erection.

Cole was insensible as he worked him at both sides, thick tongue licking out the seed from his trembling hole and firm hand stroking along the slippery skin of his cock. He let it go on for a beat or two longer than he normally would, let Cole ratchet himself up to more frenzied pleasure, waited until his eager moans were laced with genuine pain.

“Now, _kadan_ ,” Iron Bull ordered and Cole came with sobbing relief. It seemed to last longer than could be comfortable before Cole went limp on the bed, trembling. 

Iron Bull moved off the bed and walked over to his stand where a carafe of cool water and soft washcloth were waiting. He stretched deliciously and poured himself a drink, swallowing it down with a satisfied sigh. 

He came back to the bed with the carafe and the washcloth. Cole was silent and still on the bed, watching him with one languid blue eye as he approached. Iron Bull settled Cole up and pushed the carafe to his lips, encouraging him to drink with gentle hands. Cole closed his eyes and drank deeply, eagerly. 

Next Iron Bull poured the remaining water on the washcloth and cleaned the signs of their exertions from Cole’s body, save for the slight bruises on his hips and wrists. Those Cole would cover up with his clothes and Iron Bull could look at him all day to know that his marks were there, invisible to all the people that shouldn’t see them. 

Cole trembled under his careful ministrations and when Iron Bull settled back down onto the bed he was treated with an armful of pliant flesh, his ragged demon transformed back into a sweet man. Cole was never more satisfied and content than when he’d been savaged. He needed that proof that Iron Bull was strong enough to keep him safe, not from harm but from harming. And Iron Bull knew that it soothed the mindless beast in him to force this wild creature to submit to his will. 

Iron Bull stretched out on the bed as Cole tried to press every square inch of his body against him, face pressed to his shoulder. Iron Bull reached one hand up to rub his thumb heavily over his neck as he thought about the day’s revelations. He chuckled at a thought.

“Solas gathered himself up a sweet little harem, didn’t he?” He peered down to Cole’s curious eyes. “He only showed himself to pretty lady elves. That dog.”

“Wolf,” Cole protested, frowning a bit in concentration. “And he spoke to Zevran too.”

“I think that one’s an exception for a lot of people.” Iron Bull chuckled again at the confused look on Cole’s face. “Don’t you think he’s handsome, _kadan_?”

“I don’t know,” Cole said contemplatively. “He doesn’t have horns. I like horns. They’re handsome.”

“Good to know,” Iron Bull said with satisfaction. Another idea occurred to him. “Hey, did you know that Solas was some Dalish trickster god?”

Cole got the familiar look on his face that signaled he would lie if he had any sort of capacity for it, a flushed guilty look that anybody could read, much less an ex-spy.

“He didn’t want people to know. It was a secret,” Cole murmured.

“You once told a room full of people that Josephine still slept with a doll but you kept the evil god thing under your hat for years?”

“It wasn’t under my hat. It was in my head.” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Kid.” Iron Bull kissed the top of Cole’s bright head and closed his eyes. He was definitely going to need his beauty sleep to deal with all of this ancient malevolence shit.

 

“Shall I read you a bedtime story? Oh wait, all of my books are back in our room watching that Antivan do Maker only knows what on our new bed.” Dorian struggled to get comfortable on the small bed in what had been his room years ago. 

Lavellan coolly laid his hands on his stomach. “I think that I shall be fine without one of your little stories tonight, _ma vhenan_.”

“I don’t mind telling you that I don’t like any of this. Why would Leliana leave without telling us? Why wouldn’t Solas just come to you first? It smells like a trap and the fact that the cheese is in Minrathous should terrify you.” Dorian finally shifted onto his side, facing Lavellan with anxious eyes. “I’ve never trusted this alliance and the timing of this Orb is too perfect.”

“I hear all of your worries and take them to heart,” Lavellan said calmly and Dorian let out a frustrated snort. 

“Well, if he gobbles you up in your dreams, don’t come crying to me!” With that Dorian flipped over, facing the wall and no doubt giving it the most heated glare the stones had ever felt. Even so when Lavellan reached out to the fine-fingered hand perched on his lovely hip, Dorian clenched it tightly. 

“Please be careful, _amatus_. Solas is not the man you thought he was,” Dorian said to the stone wall in front of his face.

“He was never a man at all,” Lavellan corrected and closed his eyes. 

 

Sleep came swiftly, as it always had since Lavellan had mastered his anchor. He looked around the familiar camp and smiled faintly.

“Do you still miss this place, my friend?” Solas asked from behind him. “This place where your legend first took root?”

“I miss the people we lost because we did not fully know the danger we faced.” Lavellan turned around. 

Solas looked no different than he had when he’d disappeared years ago, still plainly dressed and wearing a mild expression on his young face. Only his eyes seemed changed, shifting and glinting oddly in the light of Haven’s remembered sun.

He tilted his head and fixed Lavellan with an instructive smile. “We never fully know the danger that we face and knowledge does not always bring any added protection.” 

“Why did you lie to those women, Solas?”

“I didn’t lie to them,” Solas said, eyes narrowed. “I omitted. They assumed.”

“Omission is your favorite trick, isn’t it, Fen’Harel?” Lavellan sat heavily down onto a broken stone structure.

“It is my most useful tool.” Solas stood in front of him, straight-backed and with his hands both gripped to his staff. “There are so many important questions that people never ask.”

“Is there another Orb in Minrathous?”

“That is not the question that you want to ask,” Solas said patiently.

“Why do you want it? Why do you want me to get it for you?” Lavellan glared up him, his already short temper fraying.

“Ah.” Solas nodded in satisfaction. “Finally we are starting to understand each other, my friend.”


	5. Track A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Iron Bull would be hella into spanking. Like hella into it, you guys. But my opinion might be colored by the fact that every time I go to Skyhold I always pick my romance options with my LIs before leaving so I've seen him smack my Inquisitor's ass around five hundred million times. I've also sat the fuck out of some roof with Sera.

“I don’t think they want to be together,” Cole said reflectively as he set down a perfectly matching hand. “Varric’s cards like each other more.”

“Are you looking at everybody’s cards? That’s cheating, Kid.” Iron Bull reached up and pinched the bottom of Cole’s ear hard, making him jump.

“But you’re supposed to cheat at Wicked Grace!” Cole protested. He rubbed his ear and looked beseechingly at Varric. “Isn’t that why you have so many up your sleeve?”

“You filthy cheating snake!” Cassandra grabbed Varric’s arm and ripped up his sleeve. A few matching cards tumbled out. He gave her a smirk and a shrug, which faded when they both became aware that her strong hand was still gripping his muscled arm. She dropped it immediately.

“But everybody else is cheating too!” Cole said quickly, coming to Varric’s defense. “Solas took more cards than he was supposed to and the Iron Bull’s been looking at Cassandra’s cards in the reflection of that mirror.”

Cole pointed at the mirror behind Cassandra. She turned her head to look at it and then fixed Iron Bull with a hot glare. He rolled his eye and slung his arm back around Cole’s shoulders loosely. It wasn’t his best attempts at cheating but he’d been busy the whole game trying to outdrink Solas without drawing attention to it.

“One of the unspoken rules of the game is to cheat without getting caught,” Solas said evenly. He took a long, smooth drink to finish off his mead. “You have a unique advantage, Cole, but it breaks the illusion if you tell everyone how they’re cheating.”

“I’m not cheating,” Cullen said. Everybody ignored him. It was pretty clear that he wasn’t.

“Oh.” Cole slumped on the bench. “The game is about pretending not to cheat, lying on top of trickery. I think I understand.”

“Now you’re getting it, Kid,” Varric said cheerfully. He leaned over a bit and held a hand up between him and Cassandra like a screen. “So if everybody was cheating, does that mean that the Seeker was too?”

Cassandra scoffed beside him. “Do not say another word, Cole. Don’t encourage him.”

“But,” Cole began.

“I believe that I am done now.” Cassandra stood up decisively. She turned and left.

Varric waited a beat and asked again, “So she was definitely cheating, right?”

Cole tilted his head. “I wouldn’t know? Is that what I should say?”

Iron Bull snorted and squeezed Cole’s shoulder tightly. “That’s right, Kid. We’re going to turn you into a real card shark by the time the Boss gets back. Then we can have a wild game.”

“I never cheat at Wicked Grace,” Cullen said, a puzzled frown on his face.

“That’s why you always lose,” Cole told him, fixing him with a sympathetic stare. “That’s why Josephine and Leliana like playing with you.”

“Oh. That’s disappointing.” Cullen leaned back and crossed his arms. He eyed the way that Cole tucked himself close to Iron Bull’s side as Varric gathered up his and Cassandra’s cards. “I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”

“Lavellan didn’t have a big, angry war council about it before he left? That’s a good sign.” Iron Bull glanced down at Cole. “We got a little closer on that last expedition.”

Varric huffed irritably, shuffling the cards a little harder than was necessary.

“We had sex,” Cole told Cullen. Iron Bull didn’t bother hiding a grin at the triumphant tone in his voice.

“Kid, you don’t have to tell everybody in Skyhold individually,” Varric said sharply.

“It’s probably better coming from the source than hearing about it through rumors,” Solas said mildly. “Of which there will be many.”

Iron Bull nodded. In this at least he was in full agreement with Solas. People were going to have a field day with the monstrous Qunari spy fucking around with the Inquisitor’s creepy demon. He was about to say something to address the look of embarrassed surprise on Cullen’s face when Scout Harding came into the tavern and made a beeline for them.

“Excuse me, gentleman. I have a message for the Iron Bull. We have visitors at the gate requesting an audience with you.”

“What do they want with me?” Iron Bull asked, eyebrow narrowed. He didn’t realize he’d been addressing the question to Cole until he answered.

“They want to make sure that you’re whole,” Cole said. He frowned. “But that’s the excuse, not the reason.”

Scout Harding cleared her throat. “I’m not sure, sir. But one of them is a Qunari.”

“Great.” Iron Bull stood up. “I guess I should go see what they want.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cullen said decisively and set his cards on the table. Cole peered down at them and nodded.

“None of them like each other,” he told his own cards before relinquishing them to Varric. “He should have given some of them back.”

 

Iron Bull wasn’t even at the gates before he recognized the two visitors. He came to a halt and Harding nearly ran into his back. She grunted in surprise.

“I’m guessing you know them?” Harding asked, one eyebrow lifted.

“Yep. Why don’t you give us all some privacy here?”

“Whatever you say, sir.” She left without a backwards look because Harding was a real professional but he knew she would be reporting to Leliana immediately. Iron Bull pushed the thought out of his mind and contemplated the visitors. 

Gatt wasn’t a terrible surprise, although if he’d come to finally try to kill him it would be a real disappointment. In all honesty he was glad to see the elf again since he’d thought he never would after their last interaction. He still thought of him as a real friend.

The Qunari with him was the big shocker however. He was staring at the medical tents with curious green eyes, his reddish bronze skin bright in the fading sunlight. At the group’s approach he turned his head and Iron Bull was stunned to see that his left horn had been broken near the top and been reattached with a gold band, gleaming bright against the black. The Qunari grinned broadly at his approach.

“It’s good to see you again, Ashkaari,” the Qunari said in smooth Qunlat. It pulled a bit at Iron Bull’s chest to hear his mother tongue spoken so clearly but he ignored the feeling.

“Hello, Kaaras. People call me the Iron Bull now,” he said in the Common Tongue.

“Ah, my apologies. I suppose you must call me Red Hammer then, if we’re going by the names the _bas_ call us.” Red Hammer’s Common Tongue was as nearly perfect as Iron Bull’s, which was no surprise. He’d always been a quick learner. He eyed Cullen curiously. “I thought that the Inquisitor was an elf.”

“He is. Dalish,” Gatt practically sneered around the word. 

Iron Bull breathed out slowly. “Commander, you already know Gatt and his bad attitude. Red Hammer here was raised in the same group I was.”

“I’m Commander Cullen Rutherford. I lead the Inquisition forces.” Cullen settled his arm on his sword handle. “So you’re brothers then?”

Red Hammer chuckled. “Yes. Although humans look at it differently than we do. All Qunari in our age grouping are our brothers and sisters. Ashkaari and I were simply reared by the same Tamassran.”

“Yeah, I remember when this guy lost his first tooth and tried to reattach it.” Iron Bull crossed his arms. “But this doesn’t explain why you’re both here.”

“We’re not here to fight you, Hissrad. We come peacefully and that’s how we want to leave.” Gatt sounded calm but Iron Bull knew him well enough to see that he was practically spitting nails. He hadn’t wanted to come then.

“Yes, I hope the Inquisition will be kind enough to show us their hospitality while we conduct our business with the Iron Bull.” Red Hammer grinned as though he were amused by the name.

“What is your business with me?”

“It’s actually a little funny. I’ve been sent to study you, Ashkaari.” Red Hammer sat down on a bench and set his hands on his lap. “The Tamassrans are worried about your progeny and they want me to let them know if your instability is the result of blood or outside influence.”

“And what does that mean?” Cullen asked, raising one eyebrow.

“The Tamassrans want to see if the children I made in the breeding program are going to grow up crazy like me,” Iron Bull said sourly. 

“Tama recommended me personally for this. She thought I would be a good impartial judge of your possible instability.” Red Hammer scratched around his nose a moment. “I think they sent Gatt because he won’t stop talking about you.”

“Shut your flapping mouth,” Gatt snapped and then took a deep breath. He glared up at Iron Bull. “Please just let us get this over with so that we can leave.”

Iron Bull thought it over. Red Hammer was annoying and had been since they were children but he was fiercely committed to any puzzle he was pointed towards. He would ask him a few questions, take a few notes, and be gone before Iron Bull knew it.

“Sure. I’m fine with it if the Commander is.”

Cullen rolled his shoulders and nodded. “It’s the Iron Bull’s choice, as far as I’m concerned. The Inquisitor may feel differently when he returns from his explorations but for now it’s fine.” 

“Wonderful.” Red Hammer clapped his hands together. “Now I know that the facilities in _bas_ territories are rustic, but it’s been some time since I’ve had a real bath. Is that a possibility?”

“Let me introduce you to our diplomatic arm. I’m sure she’ll be able to set you up with something that’s not too provincial,” Cullen said drily, extending his arm.

“Excellent. I hope to meet with you tomorrow and get started, Ashkaari.” Red Hammer glanced back at Iron Bull as he began to follow Cullen. 

“That’s fine, Kaaras,” Iron Bull said patiently. He met Gatt’s eyes and he was relieved at the faint hint of irritated amusement in them. At least his friend hadn’t completely lost his sense of humor.

“I hope you’re doing well, Hissrad,” Gatt murmured as he passed.

“I’m getting by.” Iron Bull sighed as he was left alone in the courtyard. Seeing Red Hammer really brought home the reality of his exile. 

He may never see Par Vollen again, might never again walk the streets of Qunandar and see the sun set behind the great domes and ancient pyramids. He may never put himself in the comforting, capable hands of a Tamassran or fight side-by-side with another Qunari warrior. Fuck, he might never have a good Qunari meal again, nutritious and balanced and perfect. 

He’d lost his people and his home and his rightful place in the Qun. He was going to have to walk the rest of his life alone, thinking in Qunlat and speaking in everything else. All the decisions he would ever make again would be informed ultimately by his own thoughts and impulses, fueled by his innate wants and desires.

It was absolutely fucking terrifying.

 

Iron Bull shut the door to his room behind him and leaned his back against the smooth wood. Cole was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hat held loosely in his lap and his eyes tightly closed. He was breathing in and out slowly and deliberately.

As Iron Bull regarded him for a few moments, the black fear he’d felt in the courtyard twisted inside his chest. This was the end result of him making his own decisions. He was fucking a literal demon, an invasive creature who smiled shy and sweet when someone was kind to him but who had once slaughtered a tower full of innocent people because he thought that it was helping.

Cole opened one of his eyes and peeked out at him. “Hello. Gatt really was happy to see you. He worries sometimes, frets and fumbles in the dark as he thinks about that day, tries to think about what he should have said instead.”

Iron Bull grunted hard through his nose and strode over to the bed. He wound his hand up in Cole’s scraggly hair and pulled his head back. Cole just gazed up at him placidly, trusting in the way that only someone who would accept any reaction could be. If he moved his hand down to that thin throat and squeezed, he wondered if Cole would even try to stop him.

“Would it hurt you if I didn’t?” Cole asked softly. 

Iron Bull forced himself to loosen his grip on Cole’s hair, slid it down until it was gripping his slim throat lightly. He thumbed over the soft skin and breathed out slowly. “What are you doing wrong?”

Only then did Cole lower his eyes, a guilty flush slipping up around Iron Bull’s hand. “I disobeyed last night too. I watched you dream and wanted to see more. I liked the ship.”

“It’s good that you told me.” Iron Bull made his hand drop to his side and he went over to his chair. He sat down heavily, his ankle aching in its brace. He squared his shoulders and nodded to Cole. “Because you told me, you get to pick.”

“Pick what?” Cole said curiously, tilting his head at him.

“How many times I’m going to smack your little ass for disobeying me. Again.” Iron Bull held up his large hand in demonstration.

“Oh!” Cole flushed more, nervousness and excitement brightening his melancholy face. He considered it, drawing his knees up out of the meditative position to creep closer to his chest. “Eight?”

Iron Bull nodded slowly. “Okay. Eight it is. Take your clothes off.”

Cole’s hands were deft and eager as he stripped off his clothes and let them pile up messily on the floor. Iron Bull cleared his throat and Cole froze.

“Pick up after yourself.” Iron Bull hesitated for only a second but a fierce battle was fought internally in that second. “Fold those up and put them in the second drawer.”

Cole looked delighted as he gathered up his few belongings and neatly tucked them inside Iron Bull’s dresser. He seemed perplexed for a moment when his hat wouldn’t fit inside and it soothed a bit of Iron Bull’s inner turmoil when he very carefully set it on top of the dresser.

He might be a deadly, dangerous demon and Iron Bull might have already lost his fucking mind but damn if the Kid wasn’t a cute little shit.

“Come here.” Iron Bull crooked his finger at him. Cole went eagerly, standing straight-legged beside him. Iron Bull gestured to his lap. Cole didn’t hesitate before settling himself over Iron Bull’s broad thighs.

Iron Bull spread his hand out over Cole’s back in admiration, arranging him until he was in a comfortable position. He thought Cole looked pretty good like that, spread out over Iron Bull’s lap and waiting for his heavy hand to come down on his round ass. Iron Bull caressed that same ass for a few moments, squeezing gently and listening to him make little sighs of contentment. 

He waited until Cole was completely relaxed and then lifted his hand up and brought it down hard. The blow was loud in the small room, as was Cole’s startled gasp.

“Keep count.” Iron Bull told him. “It doesn’t count unless you tell me the number.”

“One,” Cole said shakily. 

“Good,” Iron Bull said and brought his hand down two more times in rapid succession. 

“Two.” Cole squirmed and Iron Bull pressed his other hand down harder on his shoulders, stilling him. “Three.”

The next few blows were gentler and when Cole stuttered out the numbers, Iron Bull followed them up with soothing strokes that made him moan softly in a combination of pain and pleasure. Iron Bull could feel him hard against his legs and it made him smile. The kid was a turning out to be a beautiful masochist. He wondered if all demons liked pain.

“Two more. Then I’m going to lie back on that nice, soft bed and watch you ride me until you don’t even need elf tricks to fall asleep,” Iron Bull promised and Cole began trembling.

He stroked the reddened flesh firmly for a few moments and then whipped his hand over it.

“S-seven,” Cole said and his voice sounded choked.

“How do you want the last one?” Iron Bull pinched him hard. “I can be soft. You’re still learning.”

“No,” Cole said quickly. “I was bad. Please, punish me right.”

Iron Bull growled low in his throat and spanked one last time, hard and fierce and delightedly. Cole cried out, the sobs he’d been holding back finally loosening. Iron Bull listened for a moment and then squeezed at his ass again. “It doesn’t count if you don’t say it.”

“Eight! It was eight. Oh, please,” Cole struggled under him and Iron Bull pulled him up into a sitting position on his lap.

Cole buried his face against Iron Bull’s broad chest and he could feel the wetness against his skin as those broad shoulders shook. Iron Bull held him gently until he stilled and then he lifted Cole’s head up to look at his teary face. “How do you feel?”

“Good.” Cole rubbed his eyes. “I want to be good. Thank you.”

It made Iron Bull ache somewhere deep down to hear him and when he lowered his head to kiss at those soft lips, he wondered how bad his insane choices could really be if he could make this strange creature so happy. 

“Whatever you need.” Iron Bull rubbed his back and then slid one hand down into his lap, squeezing pointedly. “Now get up and let me get on that bed.”

After that Iron Bull leaned back and watched Cole slide whimpering along his cock, gasping out every time his sore ass found bottom, riding him so long that his long limbs started to move slowly and lethargically. He begged for release and Iron Bull waited longer until he was begging with more than just his words, until his body was the picture of desperation. Then he let him come and after as he held Cole close, he praised his restraint and his obedience.

Cole murmured out sleepy thanks, curling up against him in exhaustion. As Cole drifted off to sleep, Iron Bull wondered how quickly he could learn Qunlat. Cole was a sharp kid. He could learn the numbers easy at least. The thought was a pleasant one to lure him off to his own sleep.


	6. Track B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have just had the busiest past couple of weeks of my life, damn. But now things are going to calm down a bit and I can get back to what's important. Dragon Age porn with incidental plot. Yay! Thank you everyone that's commented recently. You're all wonderful sunbeams and I'm sorry I haven't responded back to your lovely comments. They have been very much appreciated.

Lavellan pushed open the doors to the war council room with a little huff of exertion, rubbing his eyes as he came in. Dorian and the Advisors were already there, all looking alert and ready in a way that Lavellan really was not. He could use more actual sleep but Solas would probably just visit him again to finish one of the several arguments they’d been having over the past few days. 

Dorian was resplendent as always standing next to the table, his perfect eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in judgement. Lavellan wondered if it was for his sloppy appearance or for his nightly conversations with Solas. He’d made his feelings abundantly and repeatedly clear but Lavellan knew he could rely on him even in the most troubling of times. He’d brought him into this meeting because it dealt with his homeland and he was aware that underneath Dorian’s sarcasm was a man deeply devoted to his people. He could relate.

Varric was still furiously scribbling on some paper on his corner of the table. Behind him a banner of Kirkwall rested where Leliana’s symbol used to be and as always Lavellan spent a brief moment trying to figure out what the lines on the flag actually meant. When Lavellan approached them Varric spared him a quick smile and a wink before going back to his writing.

Cullen looked unruffled despite the revelations they’d laid at his feet when he’d returned from Denerim a few days ago. When Lavellan had told him that Solas was an elven god and had tricked Leliana into searching out another destructive Orb, he’d simply sighed and nodded. At this point Lavellan didn’t think he could shock him anymore.

Josephine also appeared unperturbed although Lavellan had listened to her complain, charmingly and sweetly, about their guests for over an hour the other day. Her complaints were largely about Velanna, who had managed to argue with almost every person in Skyhold in a record amount of time, but she also had a few words about Zevran. He was making it his mission while in Skyhold to woo her dramatically in the most extravagant Antivan-style. It involved more lutes than Lavellan would have appreciated for his own wooing but despite her complaints, Josephine still smiled under her blush every time Zevran popped out from behind a door to praise her as an example of their homeland’s unmatched beauty.

“You’re wearing your bedroom slippers, _amatus_ ,” Dorian murmured as he stood beside him and Lavellan looked down at them in surprised irritation. “Do I need to put your clothes out for you in the morning?”

“Your offer is appreciated, _ma vhenan_ , but that won’t be necessary. I prefer for both of my shoulders to be at the same temperature.” Despite his words Lavellan did let his eyes linger a moment on Dorian’s lovely bared shoulder. He shuddered at the thought of Dorian picking out his clothes for him but they definitely worked for him.

Lavellan gathered himself and nodded to his Advisors. “I apologize for my lateness although I think we might have pushed this meeting until later today. Tell me how our plans proceed.”

“I don’t like any of them,” Cullen said, his handsome face stony with disapproval. “It puts you at too much risk.”

“Yes, I certainly do try to avoid danger.” Lavellan smoothed down his robes and nodded to Josephine. “What is your plan?”

“We have the alliance with the Tevinter Imperium so we should take advantage of it. I will contact Archon Radonis and request that Minrathous open its arms to the Inquisition in acknowledgement of our friendship.” Josephine smiled slightly, perhaps at the thought of Lavellan volunteering for a diplomatic anything. “While we are keeping the Imperial Senate busy with matters of state, others can look for Leliana and the Orb.”

“They’ll be suspicious though.” Dorian frowned. “They know that the Divine is missing.”

“Leave that to me,” Varric said, glancing up from his papers. “I’ve got a contact that will be a perfect decoy. Before Ruffles contacts the Archon we’ll pretend to find the Divine ourselves. We’ll say she was with the Warden the whole time, old friend shit or something. Then we’ll take the decoy with us and smuggle Nightingale back out of the Imperium right in front of them.”

“There are too many holes in this plan,” Cullen protested. “The least of which is that the Archon will be reluctant to even let us into the city, especially after the rebel slave riots. And that’s not even getting into the danger you’ll be in from the rebels themselves.”

Lavellan nodded absently. He was rather proud of the elven rebels rioting in the Imperium after the alliance with the Inquisition and he didn’t expect them to appreciate the political tightrope he walked with Tevinter. He also didn’t really appreciate the care he was taking to maintain an alliance with an empire still indulging in the centuries-long slavery of his people but that was an argument he could have all day and had. 

“I’ve got an answer for that too.” Varris rubbed his chin. “My cousin’s widow is in the Imperial Senate. She’s too busy to leave Qarinus but she’s agreed to sponsor our visit in Minrathous. We’ll be going officially as representatives of the House of Tilani for the upcoming Session. The Archon will have a built-in excuse to let us in.”

Dorian’s eyebrows popped elegantly up in surprise. “Father would be so proud to hear that I’m willingly attending a Session if I wasn’t going as the male elven Inquisitor’s lover.”

“Perhaps he’ll pay us a visit in Minrathous and I can ask his permission to have you join my clan,” Lavellan said and he exchanged a sly look of amusement with Dorian. 

“It’s still too dangerous.” Cullen gripped his sword handle hard. “Let me go with you for protection at least.”

Lavellan rubbed his forehead. “I need you here with Varric to lead the Inquisition while I’m gone. I’ll be taking the Iron Bull and Cassandra as protection.”

“A free Qunari in Minrathous,” Dorian mused thoughtfully. “We really will turn heads.”

 

Iron Bull came out of a deep sleep to sound of metal jangling. He opened his eye and blinked groggily at the sight of Cole trying to pack a bag too full of what sounded to be mostly daggers. Cole tried to shove a shirt on top and frowned heavily when it wouldn’t go in the pack.

“What are you doing there, _kadan_?” Iron Bull rumbled sleepily. “Trying to pack the whole room?”

“No,” Cole said, shoulders bracing as he tried to push down on the pack. “Just my things.”

“You going on a trip?” Iron Bull sat up and rolled his shoulders.

“Yes. The Boss is taking you to the Imperium to rescue Leliana and find the Orb. Solas says that I need to go too but I would have anyway because you’re going.”

“Yeah?” Iron Bull rubbed his head. This was all news to him. “When did you talk to Solas?”

“Last night. In my dreams, heavy with old dust and dark with forgotten memories.” Cole gave up his attempts at packing his things and dropped the heavy bag onto the floor. He pulled up a larger bag and started shoving Iron Bull’s trousers into it indiscriminately. “He wants me keep the Orb on the way back so that it’s safe.”

“Kid, stop for a minute and come here,” Iron Bull ordered, stomach suddenly rolling with apprehension. He swung out his legs over the edge of the bed and patted his lap. 

Cole obediently came over and settled onto his lap, peering up with distracted eyes that still wandered around the room as though looking for more things to pack. He was practically vibrating with excess energy. Iron Bull decided that after he had a talk with the Inquisitor he would take Cole down to the training grounds and throw him around a little to tire him out before letting him loose to help around the keep.

Iron Bull reached out and held his chin firmly. “The Imperium is a dangerous place for a demon. Why does it matter to Solas which one of us brings back the Orb?”

“It’s because I’m a spirit that I have to be the one to carry it. It might hurt a real person.” Cole’s eyes were drifting over contemplatively to his wide-brimmed assassin’s hat on the dresser and Iron Bull bounced him hard on his lap, bringing his attention back to him.

“What makes you so sure it won’t hurt you? You’re plenty real. The Boss already held an Orb. He should carry it back and you should stay here and help Varric while we’re gone.” Iron Bull’s skin was crawling just at the thought of being in the heart of the Imperium. He definitely didn’t want Cole there tempting all those magisters to do freaky blood magic shit to him just because freaking Solas thought it was a good idea.

“No.” Cole pursed his lips in a stubborn way. “Varric doesn’t need me. You and Solas need me and I want to go.”

Iron Bull growled slightly but he knew it would be nearly impossible to change Cole’s mind if he had it set on something. And if Solas was making a big deal out of Cole going then Lavellan was probably already planning on taking him. Lavellan and Cole together was a wall of stubbornness that he would have to go all out to topple and frankly he thought he needed the energy for Tevinter.

“You stay with me the whole time we’re there, got it? Don’t talk to the blood mages and don’t disappear into some dark, secret corner when there are too many people around. Stay with me. Stay alert.” Iron Bull tapped his head and kissed him when Cole nodded slowly.

“Now let me see your bag.” Iron Bull watched Cole lean over and pick it up off the floor with obvious effort. “You can’t take everything you own with you.”

“But why? Everything that’s mine likes to be with me.” Cole finally fixed his full attention willingly on Iron Bull and his earnest face made him chuckle. He kissed him again.

“Can’t argue with that, _kadan_.”

 

“How do you know this woman?” Cassandra asked sourly as Varric waved to the red-haired woman crossing the bridge to Skyhold. Hawke giggled happily at the sight of her and reached out. She did look astoundingly like Leliana.

“Rivaini knows her.” Varric shrugged as casually as he could. “She’s one of the most sought-after courtesans in Ferelden right now. I hear that she has this act with a guy that looks like the King that’s banned everywhere but in Orlais.”

“I have seen this act,” Zevran said, appearing from out of nowhere as was his calling. “It is a revelation. Although Alistair is perhaps not so short? Or so likely to make love to so many beautiful women all at once.”

Cassandra made a disgusted sound and hoisted Hawke up higher on her hip. She had been decidedly unhappy when Lavellan had agreed to let Zevran come with them to the Imperium at the Warden’s request. Warden Surana had left that morning with Velanna and Zevran had redoubled his efforts to bed all of Skyhold in his sudden melancholy. He was particularly intrigued by Cassandra, who he said was a bosomy tower of savagery. She’d punched him in the face but he didn’t seem perturbed by it.

“Rivaini swears differently,” Varric said with a raised eyebrow. “Of course she also says she once made love to five of the most powerful Antivan merchant princes all at the same time.”

“That is no lie. Lovely Isabela made quite the splash in Antiva City.” Zevran smiled fondly. “I must beg my Warden to visit the Admiral again soon.”

“Nothing keeps you from it now. We would be fine without you,” Cassandra said and turned on her heel to march out the door, Hawke staring back with round eyes.

“Such a woman,” Zevran said, his voice low with admiration. “You are a lucky dwarf. Is she as passionate in bed as she is in life?”

“Don’t push it.” Varric crossed his arms and Zevran laughed.

 

“I would be honored to help the Divine,” the red-haired woman said in a sweet Orlesian accent. She curtsied prettily to Lavellan, who was sitting on the Throne of Judgement. Over the years it had also become the spot he would receive guests in, if nothing else than because it was the most impressive spot in Skyhold. “I owe her so much of my good fortune over the years.”

“Yes,” Lavellan said, blushing slightly behind his ears. “What is your name again?”

“It would be best perhaps to call me Leliana during our time together.” She curtsied again. “It might help avoid mistakes.”

“Of course. Leliana. Yes.” Lavellan rubbed his hot neck. “Did Varric explain what you need to do?”

“I must pose as the Divine in the Imperium while you search for her. It will be a delight.” Leliana smiled. “I am rarely able to fully explore my talent for impersonation. Normally people simply want the Divine to punish them in the name of the Maker.”

“Indeed.” Lavellan wondered how long a person could blush before the rest of their body would miss the blood. He coughed and gestured to Josephine. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet. She will be arranging your accommodations and assisting you in whatever you require during the trip.”

Josephine and Leliana curtsied to one another. Josephine smiled brightly. “Leliana is an old friend of mine. I hope that I can help you in this deception.” 

“Your help will be invaluable, Lady Montilyet.”

“In public, you must call me Josephine.” Josephine paused, her bright smile cracking only slightly. “Or Josie. Leliana always calls me Josie, even when it’s not appropriate.”

“Ah, yes. Dear Josie. The Divine is famous for her warm friendships with powerful women.” Leliana curtsied to the Inquisitor one last time and followed Josephine out of the main hall to her study.

Lavellan sat back a bit in his large Avvar-style throne and closed his eyes. Surely nobody would object to him catching up a bit on his sleep on his own throne. He drifted almost immediately into sleep.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to question your decision to bring the Iron Bull to the Imperium,” Solas said as soon as Lavellan fell into the Fade.

“Truly?” Lavellan sighed in exasperation. “Are you lying in wait for me to fall asleep now? You didn’t speak to me for years and now I can’t get rid of you.”

“I worry that he will be too vulnerable in the Senate.” Solas had the good sense to sound almost apologetic as he continued their argument. “He is not comfortable around magic.”

Lavellan sat down on what seemed to be a giant shell in a forest and glared up at Solas. “If you feel so strongly about it, then why don’t you come to Skyhold yourself and try to convince him to stay? You can even go with us to Tevinter in his place.”

Solas gripped his staff hard and then relaxed his fingers around the smooth wood. “Unfortunately that would be impossible.”

“You always have excuses, old friend, but few good explanations.” Lavellan stared up into the dark sky above them. “I would leave them all behind if I could and go myself. The Imperium is no place for my people.”

“And yet so many of our people are bound unwillingly to it still, despite the elven Inquisitor’s friendship to Tevinter.” Solas managed to sound so disapproving even with the mildest tone. 

Lavellan snorted. “How good you are at turning my words against me. Truly that must be your divine gift.”

Solas tilted his head, flashing eyes regarding Lavellan kindly. “Guilt can hide in any word when it is already present in the heart.”

“You’ve become even more puzzling since we last spoke flesh to flesh.” Lavellan shook his head. 

Solas smiled slightly, the grin touched a bit with an emotion that Lavellan couldn’t name. “I’ve been spending too much time with an old friend. She’s the one with that likes to play with words and their meanings. She always has.”

Suddenly Solas turned around and peered around the forest. “This reminds me. How fares the Fereldan Queen?”

“The Fereldan Queen? Morrigan?” Lavellan rubbed his head. “As far as I know she’s perfectly well, although I can’t imagine how the King fares in the year since they married. He looked terrified at the wedding. Why?”

“That foolish girl. She’s surrounded herself with empty power and thinks it makes her stronger but she was never in any danger.” Solas sounded so strange in that moment, his voice thickening and changing with his words. He chuckled. “She’ll ruin that poor boy.”

“Solas?”

“Forgive me, my friend. I think I need some time alone.” Solas laughed again and it was a strained sound. “We will have to revisit this conversation later.”

Lavellan woke with a jolt, legs cramped on his throne. He blinked into the main hall. “Well, that was odd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing worse than having Flemeth as your mother-in-law would be having Flemeth-in-Solas as your mother-in-law. Alistair should just throw himself off the top of Fort Drakon and be done with it.


	7. Track A

Someone was knocking on Iron Bull’s bedroom door and had been for way too long. Iron Bull grunted himself more awake at the persistent sound and yawned. Cole made a soft noise into Iron Bull’s bicep, pushing his nose down like he was planning on burrowing underneath the Qunari’s larger body.

The knocking paused for a moment and Iron Bull half-settled again, reaching his hand down to rub Cole’s back. Cole stilled under his hand and let out a sleepy sigh of contentment.

Knock, knock.

“Fuck, what?” Iron Bull sat up, talking louder than he intended, startling Cole at his side. The sun was barely peeking in through his window. He liked to get up early but this was fucking ridiculous.

The door slammed open and Red Hammer strolled in, cheerfulness radiating off of him like steam. Gatt followed closely behind. He looked somewhat less pleased. 

“I’m hoping to get started right away, Ashkaari. I had the best sleep last night. This mountain air is truly invigorating. And the bed was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Oh!” Red Hammer came to a sudden stop at the sight of Cole yawning widely next to Iron Bull, rubbing his hands into his eyes before peering through his hair at the intruders. “I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”

“It’s too early for this shit, Kaaras. I had a late night. Come back in an hour.” Iron Bull scratched at his chest, glaring as best he could through one half-closed eye. Red had always used five words to say one and always used each one too loud. Tama had scolded him so many times for it, called him her chattering jaybird and laughed, but it had never sunk into his thick skull. 

“I would have thought that you would want this settled as soon as possible, but of course, I can always question your men first.” Red Hammer shrugged. “The Tevinter had some pretty strong words for me when I asked him where you slept.”

Red made like he was going to turn around and leave.

“Wait,” Gatt said, the word quiet but piercing in the small room. “That’s the Inquisitor’s demon. The one you brought to the Storm Coast that day.”

“I didn’t bring Cole. The Inquisitor did.” Iron Bull looked over at Cole, who was a bit disoriented, one of his hands still rubbing into his face. Cole looked back with tired, uncertain eyes.

“You’re bedding this thing?” Gatt went red in the face almost instantly and Iron Bull was forcibly reminded how explosive his temper was. He’d almost forgotten. “You idiot! You… _basra_!” 

“Hey,” Iron Bull said, strangely hurt. Gatt used to call him a bastard five times a day but _basra_ was a different story.

“That’s hardly polite,” Red Hammer said levelly, regarding Cole with renewed interest. Cole just stared back, his long legs sliding up under the sheets towards his chest.

“I defended you! I thought you might eventually come to your senses and instead you’re fucking demonic filth like a magister!” Gatt’s hands twitched at his sides as he practically spit the words out.

Iron Bull squared his shoulders when Cole flinched beside him but before he could say anything, Red Hammer cleared his throat pointedly.

“Well, that’s quite enough of that, I think. It’s clear that you are not capable of being an impartial observer in this.” Red Hammer pulled a piece of paper out of his knapsack and held it out towards Gatt. “Please return to the forward camp and wait for further instructions.”

“But,” Gatt protested, the tips of his ears still bright red with fury.

“Now. Before I’m forced to suggest that further reeducation is needed for you to move among the _bas_ without losing control,” Red Hammer said in stern Qunlat.

Gatt sucked in a deep breath and gave Iron Bull one last heated glare. “For these creatures you turned on your people? For Dalish mages and Tevinters and demons? You are mad, Hissrad.”

“Guess so,” Iron Bull said, his face blank. “Take care of yourself, Gatt.”

“Stuff your care.” Gatt marched out of the room, stomping heavily down the hallway and the stairs.

Red Hammer watched him go, eyebrows raised. He turned around and regarded the two still on the bed. Cole had wrapped his arms around his covered knees and was staring intently at Iron Bull. 

“You haven’t gone mad, The Iron Bull. You’re what you’ve always been.” Cole set one of his long-fingered hands in what was clearly meant to be a comforting gesture on Iron Bull’s shoulder, hanging off it limply. 

Iron Bull chuckled wryly and reached up for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thanks, Kid. That might be comforting.” 

Red Hammer cleared his throat. “That was certainly unpleasant. I apologize, Ashkaari. I was worried that his feelings for you might cloud his judgement but I’d hoped that he could be helpful despite his baser instincts.”

“Gatt’s got his reasons to be upset,” Iron Bull said with a shrug. “It doesn’t bother me.”

He was hoping that Cole was following the rule enough not to know that he was lying. He really didn’t want to hear about how much his friend’s anger had stung.

“Of course,” Red said doubtfully. He crossed the room over to Iron Bull’s chair and sat down, pulling out more papers from his bag. “Shall we begin?”

“Give me a minute here.” Iron Bull rubbed Cole’s back and softened his voice. “Kid, why don’t you go find something to do for a few hours?”

“I want to stay with you,” Cole said quickly, his words colliding with one another in his haste. He gently put his hands on Iron Bull’s covered knee. “I want to help.”

“Kid,” Iron Bull started, shaking his head firmly, but Red Hammer interrupted him.

“That seems like an excellent idea. Yes.” Red pulled out a quill and quickly wrote something. “I think it’s a very good idea to have this demon here, especially if he witnessed your…decisive moment at the Storm Coast. Another perspective is always important.”

Iron Bull turned, deliberately obscuring Cole from Red’s curious gaze. “Cole’s got nothing to do with me picking the Chargers over the dreadnought.”

“Then I’m sure that will come out in my investigation.” Red smiled serenely at Iron Bull’s scowling face. “Things always do.”

 

“Cole, was it?” Red waited for Cole’s uncertain little nod before smiling encouragingly at him and scribbling something on his papers. 

They’d stayed in Iron Bull’s bedroom for the interrogation, although Red had been kind enough to leave long enough for them to get dressed, at least after Iron Bull had practically thrown him out. Iron Bull had thought of warning Cole but he didn’t know what the warning would even cover. Red wasn’t malicious, or at least hadn’t been when they were young, but he was meticulous. He would find out everything he wanted to know about everyone in the Inquisition before he left and that would go double for the person he’d found in Iron Bull’s bed, demon or no.

“How long has the demon been possessing you, Cole?” Red clasped his hands together and let his eyes run over Cole’s lanky frame speculatively. “You do look rather worn.”

“No one is possessing me. This is my body.” Cole looked down at his hands, clearly nervous.

“Cole is the demon. He’s not a host.” Iron Bull scratched around a horn as Red Hammer blinked. “Don’t ask me how.”

“Fascinating. May I?” Red set his papers down and leaned over to Cole on the bed. He reached out and grabbed one of his hands. He rubbed at Cole’s fingers for a moment. Almost as suddenly he was pushing his fingers back a bit while Cole watched. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Cole said, still watching his bending fingers.

“Stop.” Iron Bull stood up straighter next to his dresser and Red Hammer glanced over to him in surprise. 

“Sorry.” Red frowned and let go of Cole’s hand only to surge forward and carefully grip his face. He encouraged Cole to open his mouth wide enough to look inside. “You seem have the standard number of teeth for a human your apparent age. Demons often have rather more. Open wider, won’t you?”

“I said stop.” Iron Bull let his voice drop low and dangerous with his growing irritation.

Red lifted both his hands in contrition but continued staring at Cole with interest. “How did you pick this shape? Do you have everything that humans have?”

“I wanted to help. It had to be this shape or I wouldn’t be helping.” Cole paused, thinking. “I don’t have my own bed. I don’t always need to sleep though. And I like The Iron Bull’s bed.”

“I meant do you have all the body parts humans have.” Red laughed. He poked lightly at Cole’s chest. “Do you have organs? A stomach, a heart?”

“I think so. I’ve never looked.” Cole glanced over to Iron Bull and he grunted. He certainly didn’t know.

“What do these questions have to do with my breeding contributions?” Iron Bull asked, feeling a little disgruntled at the lack of attention Red was paying him.

“Possibly nothing. Possibly everything. I’ll learn after I complete my investigation.” Red turned his attention back to Cole and smiled again. “I have a device in my bag that can listen and see if you have a heart. Would you like me to show you?”

Cole nodded hesitantly and Red pulled a curved tool out of his bag. He reached for the bottom of Cole’s shirt and pulled it up before Iron Bull could react. Red put the funnel against Cole’s chest and pressed his ear to it. “Ah, there it is. A healthy-sounding human heart.”

“Really?” Cole stared at the device with growing interest. “Can I hear it?”

“Probably a little hard to use it on yourself. Here.” Red unbuttoned his own shirt and pressed the tool to his broad chest. Cole moved over to him slowly and listened. His eyes widened and he turned excitedly to Iron Bull.

“Oh, I know that sound. Mages hear it when the Fade is rushing through their heads.”

“Extraordinary,” Red said. He tilted his head as he looked down at Cole listening to his heartbeat. He suddenly knocked Cole’s hat off and fingered a strand of his hair. “Does your hair grow?”

“Yes. But Lavellan cuts it so that I can look respectable and not like a shem street urchin.” Cole picked his hat up off the floor and carefully set it beside him on the bed.

Hammer laughed. “You’re a curious creature. So you can read minds? How useful. Can you read mine right now?”

Cole reluctantly raised his head away from the funnel and turned towards Iron Bull. He grunted again, feeling oddly proud, and nodded. Cole snapped his head back around.

“The room is smaller on the inside. Impossible when it’s the same, six feet across, eight feet tall, perfect dimensions for isolation. Whole horn is scraping the tiles above, one hundred and ten in all, swirling and green. Calming but nothing is calm, just stretched forever. The drugs might have been better. Thirty more to go.”

Red stared a moment and then clapped his hands together, laughing again. “Wonderful. You could be quite a helper.”

Cole blinked. “I want to help.”

“Not the way he means, Kid,” Iron Bull said firmly. He nodded to Red “When did they reeducate you?”

“Three years ago. It was felt that my curiosity was losing focus. I was sloppy in my research. I’m much better now. Everything is so much clearer.” Red paused and spoke in Qunlat. “How long have you been fucking this demon?”

Iron Bull sat down sullenly on the end of the bed and answered in kind. “Not long. About a week.”

“What led you to this?”

“The first time was complicated.” Iron Bull shrugged his shoulders. “After that he wanted to keep going and I agreed to it.”

“Curious.” Red turned to Cole and switched to the Common Tongue. “We’re being rude. Tell, why did you want to have sex with Iron Bull? Do you prefer his body to yours? Do you want to be inside him?”

Cole looked startled and curious. “I don’t know. I like when he’s inside me.”

“Ah, yes, I see where I was unclear. Yes.” Red chuckled and smirked over at Iron Bull. “A Qunari appendage is likely different than any _bas_ parts you’ve encountered. And Ashkaari is particularly endowed even for our kind.”

“Thanks?” Iron Bull crossed his arms. 

“It’s just a fact.” Red patted Cole on the head and beamed indulgently when he rubbed at the spot in surprise. “Wonderful stimulus, I’m sure. I think I’ve made a good start here. I do want to speak to your men, Iron Bull, and to the other members of this Inquisition, especially those that were with you at the Storm Coast.”

“My boys will speak to you but what they’ll say is up to them. I can’t speak for the rest of the Inquisition.” Iron Bull scowled. “You really don’t want to ask me anything?”

“Oh, so much! But all in good time, Ashkaari. I need time to reassess my questions in light of this new information.” Red stood up from the chair, gesturing at Cole. “I will question you both again.”

“Great,” Iron Bull muttered, watching Red leave the room in an excited cloud of rustling papers and clear scientific joy. 

He and Cole stared at each other for a few moments in the sudden silence of the room before Iron Bull shrugged. “Family’s always weird, Kid. Don’t take anything Kaaras says personally.”

“He wants to know what my insides would look like on the outside,” Cole said, eyes wide as saucers.

“That seems about right.” Iron Bull reached for Cole and pulled him into a tight one-armed hug. “Maybe don’t talk to him without me there, okay?”

Cole nodded.

 

Varric felt like a tiny group of angry druffalos were stomping around in his head, furious about whatever situation had put them there. He moaned softly as the sun continued to shine warmly on his face as he shifted on his bed, his eyes tightly closed. He always shut his curtains when he went to sleep. Of course he’d forgotten when he’d drunk enough to topple a giant.

As he shifted he hit something with his leg and heard an irritated grunt, one that was as familiar to him at this point as his own brother’s voice, Andraste watch over his sorry ass.

“Unacceptable,” Cassandra muttered, struggling to sit up on the bed. She looked about as bad as Varric assumed he did. The braid in her hair had come undone and the loose strands of hair were sticking to her face and neck like the mane on a sickly horse. She was glaring at him like she wanted to murder him and he thought that she’d never looked so beautiful.

“You should have just admitted you were cheating, Seeker,” Varric said and then winced at how fucking loud his horrible voice was. He lowered it to a whisper. “Or maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to play again, one on one.”

“I was not cheating!” Cassandra hissed and closed her eyes in sudden horror. “What was in those drinks?”

“Quantity, Seeker, nothing but quantity.” Varric tried to sit up and found that it was impossible. He rolled over until he fell off the bed onto his soft Orlesian rug. He pressed his face into the plushness and hoped that Hawke would be waiting for him with another drink when he clearly died in the next few minutes.

“We must talk about what keeps happening.” Cassandra sounded so disappointed in both of them that Varric laughed and then regretted it.

“I think it’s clear we’re just looking for excuses for this to happen now,” Varric said into the soft rug. “Maybe we should do our livers a favor and stop pretending that we don’t want to sleep together?”

“This is not what I want,” Cassandra said sharply. “I am not a plaything for your ribald imagination.”

With a powerful grunt of exertion Varric rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, you know, angry and self-righteous aren’t usually what I dream about, Seeker. Maybe you’re the one that’s living out some dirty fantasy.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and Varric prepared himself for the sound of her slamming his door shut but instead he heard nothing for next few seconds. He might have fallen back asleep, pounding head aside, but a quiet Cassandra was more nerve-wracking than an angry one. He gathered up all of his strength and pulled himself up to the edge of the bed, peeking over.

She met his eyes fiercely and normally he would have made up an excuse to get out of there, just to avoid that angry gaze, but instead he just looked back, waiting.

“Perhaps I am the problem. I thought I knew what I wanted.” Cassandra looked down her body, at her hands genteelly clasped together on top of Varric’s silken sheets. “I wanted romance and devotion. But perhaps that’s not possible for me. Maybe this is all I will be able to have now.”

Varric opened his mouth and was stunned when nothing came out. Cassandra had rendered him completely speechless.

Cassandra slowly and carefully got out of bed, dressing herself with rigid efficiency. She saved her hair for last, braiding it quickly and pinning it back around her head like a crown. When she was done nobody would have been able to tell that she’d spent the night drunkenly urging him to please her. She turned to him at the door. “I apologize for my actions, Varric. I will try to have better control of myself in the future.”

Then she was gone and Varric had no fucking idea what had happened but he knew that he didn’t like any of it. 

He needed to fix this.

“Where are you when I really need you?” Varric muttered to Hawke in the sky. “This sort of emotional shit is right up your alley.” 

Hawke didn’t answer but to be fair he was probably really busy solving problems for other dead people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Hammer is basically what would happen if Dr. Whale and Professor Mordin Solus made a baby. Except more annoying.


	8. Track B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zevran is like a much more charming Sexual Harassment Panda.

“I’d have gone with you, Chief,” Krem told Iron Bull solemnly. It made a warm feeling of pure pride swell up in Iron Bull’s chest to hear the certainty in his voice and he clapped his hand down onto his shoulder like a boulder. Krem didn’t even flinch, the wonderful Tevene bastard.

“I know you would, Krem of the Crop, but you told me that you’d never go back to the Imperium and I don’t make my men break their promises.” 

Krem lowered his eyes slightly, the slightest of smiles curling up his lips, and then he nodded briskly to Cole, who was sitting on a low wall beside them.

“You’ll watch his back, right? You know he’s like a frightened lamb around magic. ” Krem did grin then, full of swagger that he would no doubt turn on his little dwarven lover in what Iron Bull felt was a vain attempt to be as awesome as him.

Cole tilted his head, eyes hidden under his hat, and nodded once in time with his legs kicking against the wall. “I’ll keep your promise for you while we’re gone.”

“Good man,” Krem said and then turned on his heel towards the rest of the Chargers. “Enough gawking, you lot, we don’t get paid to piss around in the courtyard all afternoon.”  
Iron Bull watched his men march out of the courtyard and towards the bar, where they would no doubt piss around for the rest of the afternoon. He should check with Cullen and make sure that he would find something useful for them to do while he was gone.

“Walking into the belly with empty hands and blind eyes,” Cole murmured to himself as he watched Krem lean down by the tavern door and coolly accept a kiss from a smirking Dagna. “That great bastard had better come back.”

Iron Bull tugged lightly on one of Cole’s swaying legs and he stilled immediately. Iron Bull regarded him for a moment, taking in his distracted gaze. Cole had been in and out of everybody all morning. He hadn’t had the heart to scold him for it. He would miss Skyhold too.

“Let’s go, _kadan_. The Boss is waiting for us.” He ran his thumb over the warm skin on Cole’s ankle. 

“Horns up,” Cole said softly and let Iron Bull pull him off of the ledge.

 

“Are you sure you have everything? What about your lighter gloves? Tevinter is hot as balls this time of year.” 

“I know how to pack, dwarf. I have been north before,” Cassandra said sharply, hoisting her bag up with a grunt. 

Despite her irritated words she slipped her hands into his quickly when Varric held them out. He gave her a roguish wink and squeezed her hands. This was harder than he’d thought that it would be. He was grateful that Merrill had taken Hawke with her to twirl around in the garden or whatever it was that she did when people weren’t around. If Hawke started crying then he wouldn’t be able to act nearly as cool and collected. 

“Yeah, I was thinking actually that when you get back, we should take a trip, just the three of us.” Varric tried to keep his tone light but a bit of his sincerity bled through and made him sound nervous. 

“Perhaps,” Cassandra murmured. She would not promise her safe return to her family. It would be cruel. She would do her duty no matter what sacrifices might be required.

“It’s a good idea. We could go to Kirkwall, maybe, see my friends.” Varric coughed. “Get married. You would really like my friend Aveline, I think. She’s a real stick in the mud so you have tons in common.”

“Did you ask me to marry you?” Cassandra asked, raising one eyebrow high.

Varric released one of her hands to rub the back of his head sheepishly, his smirk apologetic as he looked down to the ground.

“I had a better proposal planned out. There were flowers and singing birds and shit, but then Nightingale disappeared and Solas turned out to be an eldritch abomination and it never seemed like a good time. So yeah. I would like you to marry me as soon as you come back.” Varric looked up. “If you want.”

“Yes,” Cassandra said coolly. “I would like that. I would also like a decent proposal before. There will be poetry and music and it will happen under the moonlight in front of a ruined castle. Plan it while I’m gone. That might keep you from making a nuisance of yourself.”

“Deal,” Varric said softly. He leaned up and kissed her, trying to memorize the soft feel of her mouth against his. He pulled back and put on a full smirk. “Try not to start anything up there, Seeker. Be nice.”

“I am always nice,” Cassandra said in a stern voice and lovingly ignored his snort.

 

“Have you ever been to the Imperium?” Dorian asked Zevran, brow furrowed as he looked at his bulging knapsack. “We do have markets, you know.”

“Ah, but do they have the finest in Antivan steel?” Zevran opened his pack to reveal dozens of knives, packed tightly. “My love gives them to me for every occasion that we celebrate. I would not part with them for any reason.”

“Knives as gifts? That doesn’t sound very romantic.” Despite his remark, Lavellan couldn’t fight back a slight blush when Zevran turned his eyes fully on him. He’d been startled when the other elf had decided that the one thing that his wife would want him to do the most in her absence was to bed the Herald of Andraste. Dorian was far too accepting of the idea for Lavellan’s comfort.

“My incandescent Warden knows me well, Your Worship.” Zevran made the respectful term sound filthy and Lavellan felt his cheeks blush deeper. It was ridiculous. He was one of the most powerful people in Thedas. He’s gone toe-to-toe with demons, dragons, and Dorian on his bad days. He was not going to blush like a virgin on his wedding night just because some assassin kept flirting with him.

“Are we ready to leave then?” The fake Leliana appeared from what seemed like nowhere and Lavellan turned red as wine under his markings when she exchanged a heated smirk with Zevran. When had they started being friends? 

“I believe that all the proper arrangements are in place,” Josephine said, sliding up beside them. She pointedly avoided meeting Zevran’s eyes like the practiced professional that she was. “Iron Bull will ride with you and Dorian in the first transport while I will be with…Leliana in the Divine’s carriage. Cassandra will ride in front and the rest will follow behind.”

“May I ride at your side, beautiful Josephine, so that I may hear the sweet sound of our homeland fall from your lips?” Zevran took the hand that Josephine wasn’t writing with and she gave him a contemplative smile.

“Actually I think it might be best if Zevran rides in the first transport as well and I ride behind,” Dorian said thoughtfully. “It would be wiser to keep our more conspicuous companions together, especially as we get closer to the Imperium. It will dissuade the Venatori.”

“Very wise,” Josephine said with an almost regretful sigh as Lavellan stared in disbelief. 

Zevran beamed at the idea. “So many days traveling with such intriguing company. It’s been years since I was so fortunate.”

“I’m regretting this whole operation,” Lavellan snapped and stalked towards the transport.

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Dorian assured them all brightly.

 

“Tell me, Iron Bull, do most Qunari have such impressive horns? I have an old friend who had none at all. Is that common?” Zevran let himself relax into the plush cushions of the Inquisitor’s personal transport as he glanced up at Iron Bull through hooded eyes. 

Iron Bull matched his level of relaxation, casually sliding one arm up onto the back of cushions where he sat with Lavellan. The Inquisitor was, adorably in Zevran’s opinion, attempting to stare out the window and ignore them all. He’d been doing it for hours, which was about the amount of time it had taken for the color to finally fade from the tips of his ears. Zevran was charmed. He’d heard that the mighty Inquisitor was prickly and powerful but nobody had mentioned that he was so easily flustered by a little harmless appreciation. 

“It’s pretty rare to be hornless. Good luck, I’ve always heard.” Iron Bull scratched around one of his own horns. “Not a lot of people with my kind though. The Tamassrans kept me busy at the breeding facilities trying to spread it around.”

“I’m certain that they did,” Zevran said admiringly. Lavellan coughed and then choked.

“You all right there, Boss?” Iron Bull tried to rub Lavellan’s shoulders and was glared at for his troubles. He held his palms up in apology and winked at Zevran, who preened under the attention.

“Three and four a year. The eyes were easier to duplicate but there was no real advantage there. No quantifiable results with most females,” Cole murmured distantly beside Zevran. He’d also been quietly glancing out the window since they’d set out but it didn’t seem to be from embarrassment. Zevran was ashamed to say that he’d almost forgotten that the young man was there despite his long limbs taking up so much of their bench.

Iron Bull grunted, sounding disapproving. “Kid. That’s not keeping your head on our surroundings.”

“I’m sorry,” Cole said contritely. He sat up straighter. “I’ll mind the trees and everything that might be in them.”

“So you truly can read minds, Cole?” Zevran fixed a sly smile on him when Cole turned to look at him. He was a rather sallow creature but he did have a charming naiveté to him. It wasn’t Lavellan’s blushing prudery but he did find it oddly appealing. It would be like seducing a sweet young farmer with a secret wicked streak. It was especially intriguing since he came attached to the enormous, handsome Qunari with the deep voice and promising smiles. 

“Do you want me to look in your mind?” Cole asked in a soft, curious voice. 

“Ah, let’s save that for when I have more interesting thoughts in mind. Perhaps tonight at camp?” Zevran let his leg brush up against one of Cole’s long legs purposefully and was heartened when he didn’t pull back. Zevran slide his eyes back up to Iron Bull, heated and suggestive. Iron Bull just gazed back levelly and didn’t say anything.

“If you want,” Cole said but he already sounded distracted again as he turned his head back towards the window. “The Iron Bull, there are five men behind a ledge who are arguing about how to loosen our wheels. What would be the best way?”

“Fuck,” Iron Bull swore and shoved a surprised Lavellan to the bottom of the carriage. He nodded to Zevran. “How good are you with an arrow?”

“Not as good as with my daggers but I believe that you will be pleased.” Zevran immediately began preparing his crossbow as Iron Bull turned his attention on Cole.

“Go surprise our ambush, Kid.”

Cole nodded and disappeared in a puff of chemical smoke. Iron Bull grinned wide at Zevran. “Why don’t you help him out? Impress me, Antiva.”

“At your command, General,” Zevran said and quickly followed. 

 

“And what am I thinking about now, hmmm?” Zevran asked in a low voice as he slid slowly once again into Cole’s twisting body. Cole just moaned throatily, so much more appealing now that he was naked and wanton against him. He’d been tirelessly eager since they’d started their celebrations at camp after everyone else had gone to bed.

“If you’re thinking about anything, I’m disappointed,” Iron Bull said behind him. Zevran shuddered in delight at the feel of his thick cock rubbing against him. He put his large hands on Zevran’s hips, helping him move with deliberate slowness. “That’s it. That’ll really get him going.”

“No.” Cole arched up in frustration. Iron Bull had tied his hands together with patient delight earlier in the evening, right before pressing his mouth down to Zevran’s waiting cock. His voracious tongue had been a most pleasant surprise. “Please more.”

“Such politeness,” Zevran murmured, letting his head loll back onto Iron Bull’s shoulder as the larger man slid two of his thick fingers into him. “Shall I reward him for being so polite?”

“Not yet.” Iron Bull continued lazily pumping his fingers in and out of Zevran, directing his careful thrusts. He reached around Zevran’s body with his other hand and began stroking Cole’s straining erection. 

Cole breathed out hard through his teeth. His strong legs were shaking with exertion under Zevran’s hands, the muscles jumping in a very distracting way even as his body gripped him hard.

“Be good, _kadan_. You know I always give you what you need,” Iron Bull said in a low rumble.

Cole nodded with reluctance and Zevran gasped in pleasure as Iron Bull began pushing the wonderful, huge head of his cock into him. Cole moaned in perfect harmony with Zevran as Iron Bull moved steadily inside.

“Very…very impressive.” Zevran gritted his teeth as he adjusted to the feel of that hard cock filling him up almost too much while he was nestled in a tight, gripping heat. This was truly one of his more magnificent ideas. His wife would be delighted to hear of it.

Iron Bull chuckled behind him, his large hands coming to fasten iron-tight around his hips. “Thanks.”

“It’s,” Cole started and then seemed distracted for a moment by something that probably only he could feel. “It’s rare. Even under the Qun.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Iron Bull agreed and thrust once in and out of Zevran, with deliberate slowness. His hands on his hips meant that Zevran was forced to stay still as he was fucked, which made Cole groan in frustration under him. However Cole was obedient enough not to protest, even when Iron Bull began fucking Zevran in earnest, long and smooth and deep.

Zevran swore in Antivan, falling forward onto the welcoming body beneath him. Iron Bull was tireless in his patience as he continued to move in him. Cole sighed and wrapped his bound arms around Zevran’s neck, pressing his face to his hair like an affectionate bird. Zevran turned his head and found his mouth. They kissed deeply for a few moments and Iron Bull grunted in admiration. He finally consented to moving his hands from Zevran’s hips to Cole’s stretched legs and began moving them both hard and fast.

Cole went wild under them and Zevran felt an answering heat swell up in him at the man’s unexpected passion. Zevran rode Iron Bull’s masterful thrusts until he felt close to bursting, kissing at whatever skin he could reach. Finally he pressed his forehead against Cole’s thin neck and moaned as the Qunari continued to use him roughly. He was a tireless lover but this was starting to strain even his legendary abilities.

“Might we be close to the end?” Zevran said and then cried out in surprise when Iron Bull rocked into them at a particularly clever angle.

“I thought you were experienced, Antiva,” Iron Bull said in a satisfied rumble. “You want to come, _kadan_?”

“Yes,” Cole said eagerly, pushing up against Zevran. His fingers twitched and stretched. “I was patient, never rushing, always listening, please.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Iron Bull moved quicker and Zevran felt the last of his tenuous control snap under the combined pressure of the men moving towards each other. He cried out in release and heard it echoed perfectly below. Iron Bull was a bit slower to his release but when it came, Zevran was stunned at the force of it. 

Iron Bull breathed for a moment before carefully untying Cole’s wrists and moving away. Unbound Cole wrapped his legs around Zevran’s hips and held him closer. It was rather sweet since he felt like he’d been ravaged by a literal bull.

He should really talk with Surana about paying good old Sten a visit one of these days.

Which reminded him.

“What does _kadan_ mean?” Zevran asked sleepily against Cole’s collarbone. Iron Bull was energetically bustling around the tent but Zevran didn’t really think that it was necessary for him to move for the rest of his life.

“It means where the heart lies.” Iron Bull sounded distracted as he moved around behind them. He paused to drink something and sighed in satisfaction. 

Zevran snorted. He knew it. That cold Qunari bastard had pretended to be so above their fleshy human ways but he knew that Sten had wanted her.

Cole began stroking Zevran’s hair lightly. He seemed fascinated by it. “It can be for a friend. It’s for all the nice ways that people can love each other.”

“Yeah.” Iron Bull snapped his fingers when he finally found whatever he was looking for. He came back over to the stacked bedrolls and began cleaning them down with a wet cloth. It felt fantastic. Zevran squirmed in pleasure.

“The Arishok didn’t mean it in a friend way though. You were right,” Cole whispered to Zevran. This made Zevran chuckle and wrap his arms around him.

“I believe that we should have many more of these illuminating conversations, Cole. Perhaps after more beautiful, filthy lovemaking.”

“All right,” Cole said readily and tightened his legs around Zevran’s hips.

“I don’t know if he meant right now, Kid,” Iron Bull said in bemusement. He rubbed the back of Zevran’s neck. “It can take a lot to tire Cole out.”

“I would be a poor guest if I didn’t try to oblige.” Zevran grinned even though the thought of more sex sounded exhausting. Never let it be said that Zevran Arainai didn’t rise to a challenge.


	9. Track A

“And how long have you suffered under the delusion that you are not a _saarebas_?” Red Hammer asked Dalish. His quill was poised expectantly over his parchment and he was smiling benignly at her. She was looking at him as though she wanted to use her not-magic to turn him into a badger.

“I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about,” Dalish said lightly but even her usual easygoing tone sounded more frayed than usual.

Bull didn’t blame her. Red had been poking around for three days now, asking his men and everybody else every question that entered his mind and then some. At first Iron Bull had been happy to follow him around because people seemed to feel more comfortable talking to his “brother” when he there and also because he wanted to be able to intervene if things got too invasive. However by the time he spent three hours in the kitchens while the cook explained how to make cookies in exhaustive detail to an enthralled Red, he would have welcomed an actual invasion.

The oddest part was that despite the endless barrage of questions Red wanted to ask, he’d somehow never gotten around to asking Bull any. Also odd was that although he watched Cole do everything with eagle-eyed fascination, he hadn’t come to him with any follow-up questions. He seemed perfectly content to just watch Cole flutter around Bull’s side like a tremulous shadow.

The whole situation had put Bull in a bad mood and not just because Red was annoying as shit. The truth of the matter was that he’d been enjoying his and Cole’s early explorations in bed and out and that had taken a hit. He felt weird touching the kid now. He was already a Tal-Vashoth so he couldn’t be any more exiled for showing affection to a demon, but every time he reached out an arm to wrap around Cole’s shoulders he could feel Red’s contemplative eyes on them. It was leaving him irritable and horny.

On the fourth morning Bull woke up in his empty bed to the sounds of Red energetically knocking on his door, already talking about visiting the smithy or some bullshit. Iron Bull growled.

“Give me a fucking minute,” he said in sharp Qunlat and threw the covers back. He paused, surprised, when a small stone tumbled down his bedsheet. He picked it up, studying the curve and shape. It was exactly the right shape to sharpen his battle-axe, which he’d only yesterday noticed was growing dull. 

Bull slid his thumb over the surface, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. He must have really been tired if the kid had managed to get in and out of his bed without him even waking up. Or maybe Cole was just that good.

The idea of Cole quietly padding around in his room late at night, sliding his lean arms under the covers in order to place that rock next to Bull’s big body was unexpectedly arousing. Iron Bull shifted a bit at the thought of Cole breathing close and soft right next to him, doing something so nice without expecting a reward. It should have been unsettling but it just made him a hot. His creepy little demon.

“Are you coming?” Red shouted through the door. He’d learned not to barge in anymore.

“Not yet,” Bull muttered and slid the rock into his pocket.

 

Surprisingly—or perhaps not surprisingly—Dagna was the only person in Skyhold who didn’t think that Red Hammer was the most irritating person that she’d ever met. The two began talking and by the time they’d gotten to their third sentence, Harritt and Iron Bull were looking at each other with growing despair on their faces.

“What an extraordinary idea,” Red said, scratching furiously on his parchment. “Tell me, have you ever considered conducting that experiment over water?”

“Oh!” Dagna’s face lit up. “We should try that! Right now!”

“Yes.” Red nodded. He glanced over at Iron Bull. “I’m afraid this might take some time, Ashkaari. You should go ahead and eat without me.”

“Yep, I’m going to do that.” Iron Bull ignored the suddenly betrayed expression on Harritt’s face as he hurried out of the forge. 

He almost felt like whistling as he made his way over to the tavern. He was going to eat a lot, drink even more, and then find Cole. The idea of getting his hands back on him after four days of platonic side-hugs and chaste forehead kisses was intoxicating. He was going to wreck that kid.

The Chargers cheered when they saw him by himself and he was quickly absorbed into a rousing afternoon of drinking and singing. He smirked for an hour at the sight of pretty Scout Harding perched on Krem’s favorite chair while his Lieutenant mooned over her like a lovesick cow. Krem was ridiculous when he was sweet on someone. He was going to shove snow down the back of his shirt and figure out a pun involving Krem’s name that showed off how clever that was.

Finally Iron Bull made his way up to his room where he intended to sharpen the fuck out of his axe so that he could show Cole how much he appreciated his thoughtfulness. Right before he showed him how much he appreciated his thoughtfulness by sharpening his dick in him.

He had barely closed the door when he found himself with an armful of wriggling, desperate demon. Cole kissed him like it was the last time, tongue sliding out and against his, moans vibrating into his mouth. Iron Bull growled deep and grabbed at his ass, lifting him up. Cole wrapped his legs around his waist so quickly that it almost cut off his breath. 

Iron Bull turned them around and slammed Cole’s back against the door. He was suddenly aware that Cole was naked and the sharp sting of arousal that caused made him roll his hips up against him. Cole shuddered out a breath, his hands reaching up for Bull’s horns.

“I guess we had the same idea,” Iron Bull said, leaning his head down to capture one dusky nipple between his teeth and bite.

“Oh!” Cole pressed his back flat against the door, squeezing Iron Bull’s waist with his strong thighs.

Iron Bull whirled around and practically threw Cole off of him. He bounced on the bed and sat up on his elbows, panting. Iron Bull swept his eye down the long, tempting length of him. Cole was already stiff and swollen, as though he’d been working on himself for an hour. Iron Bull grunted. 

“Maybe you were thinking about it a little harder?”

“You were burning in me, for hours!” Cole burst out, his chest rising quickly with frustrated arousal. “I twisted and begged, bended and broke in your mind but you were with the others, too bright to see anything else. I wanted and wanting made waiting worse so I came here to be silent but I still saw you behind my eyes, under my fingers when I tried to be patient.”

“Fuck. That’s good. That’s real good.” Iron Bull yanked his belt off violently, so turned on by the images that Cole’s words inspired that he could barely keep himself from jumping on the bed. He grabbed a bottle of oil and threw it at him. “Get yourself ready for me. I want to see it.”

“I’m tired of teasing,” Cole said petulantly, catching the oil and frowning at it. “I already ache and I want to stop.”

“I wasn’t asking, Kid.” Iron Bull shook his head. He could feel the blood rushing in his head. “It’s my turn to get a show. You’re going to wet those fingers up and make a space for me or I’m going to tie you to the headboard and fuck your mouth until I’m satisfied.”

Cole looked stunned at the idea and hurriedly spilled a mess of oil onto his hand. He was shaking as he pushed four fingers up inside with little preamble, moaning in surprise as he pushed onto them. His long back was bent up as he fucked himself on one hand, the other clawing into the bedspread. His cries were breathless and impatient. 

“Oh, that’s good. Enough. Get on your hands and knees,” Bull ordered, almost undone by his own command. Cole let out pained sound but obediently pulled his fingers out of his slickened hole and turned around. 

Iron Bull moved forward, grabbing two handfuls of Cole’s ass and roughly spreading him wide. He licked his lips at the sight of that twitching, eager hole but he was tired of teasing too. They’d both been patient the past few days.

“Relax,” Iron Bull said firmly and took his cock in hand. He pushed into Cole, slower than he wanted but faster than he should have, and Cole let out a heartbreaking moan, his head sliding down towards the bed. 

Iron Bull reached down and yanked Cole’s arms up behind his back, easily clasping them together in one hand as he used the other to slam hard into him. He felt frenzied, like he was fighting an army of angry wolves. He searched for some semblance of calm but Cole’s words kept circling around in his head. 

_…bended and broke in your mind…_

He slowed to a crawl and Cole sobbed out a protest, trying to move against him with all of his inhuman strength. Iron Bull flared his nostrils out, shaking the body under him, around him, and tried to remember who he was.

“What number am I thinking of?” Iron Bull asked, his voice steel as he stopped moving.

“I—but—you said—please!” Cole was trembling so hard against him that it felt like he would fly apart, maybe explode into demonic pieces and float back into the Fade. 

“One number, Kid, that’s all I want. You give me my number and I’ll give you want you need.” Iron Bull twisted Cole’s arms up higher on his back and wondered at the thrill that came when he shrieked. What was he now?

“Nnnh.” Cole pressed his forehead against the mattress and went still, trembles still shivering along his pale skin. “You think that you’re less than you were, smaller because you’re one instead of all but you feel bigger when they look to you and need. They smile and their eyes say that you would never have let them go and he writes it down because it’s a sickness. You shouldn’t want to be needed. Please, I like needing you!”

Iron Bull let his words twist around him, probably latching onto the parts of his soul that would pollute him forever, and closed the eye he hadn’t given away. He began moving again, steady and sure, releasing Cole’s arms in favor of reaching beneath him. Cole was painfully hard, gasping a bit at his firm, gentle touch.

“It was twelve again, Kid. You’ll get it next time,” Iron Bull chided. “Now let go.”

He stroked Cole’s long, shuddery release out of him with patience, feeling the calm come over him even before he followed with his own climax. They took some time before they untangled from one another and he slid out with a satisfied groan. He was tempted once more to soothe Cole’s greedy hole with his tongue, to lap up every last trace of him slipping out, but instead he got up and cleaned them off. Then he rubbed Cole’s sore muscles until he was loose and relaxed. Cole clung to him when he tried to move away and he let himself be pulled down onto the bed.

“You lied,” Cole said quietly, rubbing his face against Iron Bull’s shoulder. “You were thinking of five.”

“I guess it’s no good trying to lie to you.” Iron Bull slid his hand up and thumbed down his soft neck. “You can see right through me, Kid.”

Suddenly there was familiar knocking at his door.

Iron Bull sighed. “Here we go again.” 

Cole curled ever tighter up against him in response. Iron Bull slid his arm down and pulled Cole up with him when he sat up. He ran his hand down until it encircled Cole’s waist and he squared his shoulders.

“Come in,” he said in the Common Tongue.

 

Varric wasn’t spying on Cassandra Pentaghast. He may have been peering out a window on the top floor of a building right next to her and that may have afforded him a perfect view of her pensive profile, but that was a wild coincidence. He just happened to be in the best possible place to get some writing done. Writers needed space and quiet to work their magic. 

“What the hell is she doing?” Varric said, startling himself and a sleepy cat on the windowsill. The cat gave him an offended look and jumped down, rubbing hard against his leg as it went, as though it wanted to let all the other cats know that he was a dick.

What Cassandra appeared to be doing was sitting very straight and very still, one his books closed on her lap—cover down—and just staring out across the courtyard. It was unsettling. Cassandra was an angry, belligerent force of nature. She raged and ranted and blamed people for stuff that was probably not their fault because she was so disappointed in other people not living up to her standards. She didn’t get sad.

And yet.

Varric leaned forward onto the windowsill, careful to stay out of sight just in case she might mistakenly believe that he was spying on her. Her short haircut left her with a tiny tuft of black hair on her neck that he knew was softer than the rest of it. If he pressed his mouth to the bottom of that soft fluff, Cassandra would shudder. He remembered that through the alcoholic haze of their times together. She would shudder and press him down onto the bed and demand that he be serious. 

He’d never had such serious sex before her. Sex with Bianca was fun, light, tinged with the existential terror that they might never be able to be together and flushed with the faint relief that they might not have to discover that they wouldn’t want to be. Varric knew that he shouldn’t compare them but the idea of Cassandra blithely shrugging her shoulders at the idea of when they might next meet was inconceivable. She would dictate to him the exact time and place that they would next come together and make him sign an agreement with witnesses all around.

It was better that she’d stood firm against them having sex again. He felt like he’d been hard for days and he oddly missed her exasperated grunts whenever he would make a witty retort, but it was good that they were done with whatever they’d been doing. Huge mistake.

Cassandra sighed, actually sighed, and Varric almost tumbled down through the window to ask her what was wrong.

“Do you think you’re going to be much longer?” Ser Morris asked tentatively from behind him and then he really did almost tumble through the window.

Varric looked over his shoulder. The Quartermaster was standing there with his blanket in his hands like a teddy bear. He looked hesitant and uncertain but that was pretty typical for him.

“Do you sleep here?” Varric glanced around him in surprise.

“Yes? But I can always sleep later?”

“No, I was just leaving.” Varric pushed away from the window and gave Ser Morris a friendly grin. “You go right ahead and get some sleep.”

“I wouldn’t really mind? Except that Cyrvel and I are leaving early in the morning for a picnic.” Shockingly Morris ended the last sentence with surety. Dreamy-eyed, sighing surety but it was still firm.

“Cyrvel?” Varric asked. He thought he knew everybody in Skyhold.

“He’s the librarian. In the tower? We’re…courting.” Ser Morris flushed red at the word. 

“That’s nice.” Varric slapped Morris on the back with genuine enthusiasm. Somebody should be having some fun.

“Yes,” Morris said dreamily. “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He’s read so many books and he always knows what to say. I'm thinking of buying flowers from Bonny Sims for him tomorrow. Do you think he’d like that?”

He asked his question with such fervent worry that Varric blinked.

“Probably? I didn’t know who he was until a moment ago so I’m not an expert on the guy. But people like flowers.” Varric was starting to edge around Morris, growing worried that he was going to become this near stranger’s closest confidant for his love life.

“He’s terribly romantic,” Morris said earnestly. “He never said so but he reads so many romantic books. Oh, like yours!” 

His eyes narrowed in on Varric with such intensity that he froze, one foot hovering over the stairs. Morris suddenly looked very excited.

“Oh, please help me know what to do next! I’m such a dreadful mess when it comes to romance but you—you write about it with such passion, you must know so much! Please, help me!”

Varric stared a moment, protests dying on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t anything close to an expert on romance. His romances were easily the worst things he ever wrote, sappy and trite and completely nonsensical to anyone with any taste.

Cassandra fucking loved his romances.

“Buy him flowers and a dirty book,” Varric advised quickly and raced down the stairs.

He wasn’t a romantic person. He wasn’t a serious person. Hell, he was barely a decent person. But if there was one thing that Varric Tethras was, it was an excellent bullshitter.

If Cassandra wanted romance so badly that she would mope around like a beautiful sad statute without it, then he could give it to her. He would shove so much romance down her throat that she’d be gagging on it and then, maybe, she would understand that it was crap anyway and let him touch her fantastic breasts without it.

First he would need some help.

 

A few hours later, Varric sat back in his chair and nodded to the discarded letters around him. It had taken him some time but he’d finally crafted the perfect message to enlist the help he needed. He would send it out tomorrow and soon Cassandra would be firm, self-righteous putty in his hands.

_Hey Rivaini,_

_I need your help with something. I’m sending you a list of shit that I want you to get one of your pirate friends to drop off for me. Don’t ask why, it’s not interesting. Tell the Elf that he needs to smile more or his face will stick like that and scare away all the fat merchant vessels. Give Daisy a kiss for me. Not your kind of kiss._

_I’m sending this letter with one of the Nightingale’s giant crows so don’t do anything to it this time. Just send the damn thing back, Rivaini, I’m not made of crows._

_Love,_

_You Know_

_P.S. Seriously, just send the crow back. I got a lecture last time that made one of Aveline’s look like a warm conversation. The Inquisition is serious about their crows._


	10. Track B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it has been a long time, hasn't it? I could tell you guys some long, boring stories about what's going on in the Vulture home, but instead here's some crazy-ass shit. Please enjoy.

“That’s not a Dalish wedding ceremony!” The tips of Lavellan’s ears were scarlet-red as he sputtered across the campfire. 

Zevran was spread out on the ground, nominally warming himself by the fire but really arranging his body in a way that he knew was quite alluring. Lavellan was flustered enough by his remarks that he didn’t even bother disguising the way it was catching his eyes. 

“Oh, is that true? The lovely Dalish woman who married my wife and I was very convincing. Very, very convincing.” Zevran leaned back on his elbows and smiled at his memories of that night. He winked at Cole sitting folded beside him like a timid squirrel, just in case the man was listening to his thoughts.

Cole tilted his head curiously but to Zevran’s surprise didn’t say anything. The boy had been fairly talkative over the past few days of travel, although Zevran honestly didn’t understand half of what he was saying. And the half he did understand was strange and disturbing. Zevran might have considered disliking him if Cole didn’t make up for his lack of discretion with a keen love of loud, energetic sex. The Iron Bull and Cole had made Zevran feel very welcome indeed.

“She lied,” Lavellan snapped, folding his hand tighter around his staff in his embarrassment. Beside him Dorian pursed his lips together, considering.

“I don’t know, _amatus_ , I rather like the sound of that ceremony. Are you certain we can’t do some of that come spring?”

“Ah, I would be happy to supervise the affair! I believe that I remember precisely how it went.” Zevran grinned wider as Dorian chuckled and Lavellan scowled.

“No, thank you,” Lavellan said stiffly and Zevran couldn’t help but add his laughter to Dorian’s charming chuckles. After several moments of deep frowning, the edges of Lavellan’s mouth finally began tilting upwards. Lavellan cleared his throat. “After all, a Dalish mage must preside over a Dalish wedding ceremony. You don’t really qualify.”

“Such a pity,” Zevran said. He was heartened when Lavellan smiled at him, small and very tight and more like a grimace but it was some ground won.

“It’s thinner than it should be,” Cole said and the three men turned to him. His forehead was furrowed in concentration as he stared into the fire. “The warmth is slipping somewhere that’s not real.”

“I’ve got just the cure for that,” Dorian said cheerfully, standing up. “I’m going to get some more stew. Would anyone else like some?”

“I would not refuse anything from your hands.” Zevran flirted without looking at Dorian. He watched Cole close his eyes and furrow his brow more.

“Nothing for me, _ma vhenan_.” Lavellan did smile then, genuine and tender and all for Dorian.

“Cole?” Dorian asked but Cole didn’t answer him. Dorian shrugged and started away.

“The air is cracking here. We only need a little more sacrifice to break through.” Cole’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Dorian, jumping up from his crouched position. “Wait!”

“What?” Dorian paused but a second later the ball of light and energy exploded out of the campfire, neatly answering his question.

Zevran shielded his face against the blinding light. When he finally lowered his arm he was stunned to see two men standing where the fire had been. One was hooded and wearing long robes. The other was very, very familiar.

“Dorian?” Lavellan shakily came to his feet, staring in front of him.

The man whose face was the mirror of the mage standing stock-still a few feet away grinned. His hair was long and tied neatly to one side, his facial hair was nonexistent, and his robes were a more ornate version of the man standing beside him but otherwise he was identical to Dorian Pavus.

“So you’re the Source,” the other Dorian said to Lavellan. His eyes slipped down him to the anchor in his hand. “That must be convenient.”

Before anyone could say anything he slammed his staff into the ground and the circle of light spread out a few feet, encompassing Lavellan on one side and Zevran and Cole on the other. Dorian was the first to react, hurriedly moving forward but before he could reach them the circle grew too bright once more and began to shrink. By the time Dorian could open his eyes, the circle—and everyone who had been inside of it—was gone.

“No,” Dorian said, the blood draining from his face in disbelief. The rest of the camp finally rushed over to him. Iron Bull was the first to reach him.

“What happened? Where’s the Boss?” Iron Bull’s unspoken question was obvious as he looked at the side of the fire where Cole had been a moment ago.

“I don’t know. I don’t…understand.” Dorian sank slowly to his knees. The chill that had been in his doppelganger’s eyes as he’d looked at Lavellan frightened him. 

“Who took them?” Iron Bull pulled Dorian to his feet and shook him, lightly but firmly until Dorian finally focused on him.

“I did,” Dorian said. 

 

The circle of light grew so bright that Lavellan felt like it was going to burn out his eyes even with his lids tightly closed and then it exploded outward and the light disappeared. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a large castle hall. He recognized it immediately as the castle at Redcliffe. The other Dorian sank to his knees in front of him and the man at his side touched his back in concern.

“I’m fine, Alexius,” Dorian’s voice was light and unconcerned as he struggled to his feet. He smirked coldly at Lavellan. “This one was a bit bigger to carry than the other trinkets.”

“And you brought two more.” The man pushed back his hood and Lavellan was stunned to see that he was Gereon Alexius, his face dark with worry. Alexius gestured at Zevran and Cole. “What shall we do with these two? Dispose of them?”

Zevran was crouched low to the ground, hands curled around his back to where Lavellan knew he had a hidden dagger. He was watching Alexius and Dorian closely. 

Beside him Cole was less observant. He was sitting on the ground, his long legs sprawled out as he looked wildly around the room. Cole lurched to his feet and spoke in a trembling, frantic voice, “No, this is wrong! You’ve broken the walls and everything wants to crawl through the holes you’ve left.”

“Interesting,” Dorian said, pushing his chin up. Lavellan had always thought that he would look younger without his facial hair but there was something clinical and cold in his face that made him seem much older. “That seems like a fair assessment of what we’ve done, doesn’t it, Alexius? Tell me, though, how do you know that?”

Cole turned his wild, frightened eyes to Dorian. “You’re torn and twisted and wrong. He ripped out parts of you by mistake!”

“Uncanny. Isn’t that fascinating?” Dorian jostled Alexius at his side, clearly amused. “We won’t get of rid of this one, at least.”

Dorian looked down at Zevran and smiled, eyes raking over his body in a way that tore into Lavellan. “And perhaps we might find some use for this other one. Father always said the worst trait a person could possess was wastefulness.”

“As you say,” Alexius said stiffly, disapproval dripping from his voice. He nodded sharply to a few enormous Venatori warriors, who came swiftly over.

Lavellan struggled as the men grabbed him and at his side the other two fought as well. “Dorian, what is happening?”

“I’m collecting you. Well, that.” Dorian pointed to the anchor. “You’re an unexpected bonus. You’ll be the first Source that can answer my questions. I’m truly excited. We’ll have such fun together.”

“ _Ma vhenan_ , don’t do this,” Lavellan begged as one of the guards ripped a dagger out of Zevran’s hand and another threw Cole hard to the ground.

“I do enjoy their language, don’t you? _Ma vhenan_. It sounds so charming.” Dorian wrapped his hand around Alexius’s arm and began pulling him away. “Come, let’s check on Felix’s progress and then take a nap. Traveling so far is exhausting.”

“Of course, _amatus_ ,” Alexius said quietly. 

Lavellan struggled for a few more moments, shock and pain making him uncoordinated. One of his fireballs went careening harmlessly into a pillar and then suddenly a man came up behind him and everything went black.

 

“So you kidnapped the Inquisitor and disappeared?” Cassandra sounded pissed, which was right about where Iron Bull was. 

“It was definitely me. And that spell. I’ve seen it before.” Dorian swallowed hard. He was staring at his hands. “It looked like the time magic from Redcliffe. But it was different somehow. I don’t know how exactly.”

“If this is like it was before, does that mean they’ll come back soon? You guys were only gone a few minutes before.” Bull rubbed his pants to try and get rid of some of the nervous energy running through him. He didn’t want to think about Cole trapped in some horrible future where the hole in the sky had ripped completely open and all the demons had poured out. Cole was the only demon that should be on this side of the Veil. 

“Theoretically.” Dorian rubbed his chin. “If Lavellan is able to replicate the spell we used before he should be able to come back from whatever time the other me took him to. It would seem almost instantaneous to us.”

There were a few moments in which all of the people in the camp stared at the spot where the campfire had been, expectant. Finally Iron Bull turned back to Dorian, his one eye glaring into him.

“I said theoretically,” Dorian said but even his defensiveness sounded weak. He was clearly devastated as well. 

Iron Bull pointed at him. “I fucking hate magic. I want you to know that.” 

“In this situation, I’m not entirely in disagreement with you.” 

 

Zevran woke slowly, in brief and painful increments. His side was a fire of pain with every breath he took. He moved slightly and felt the chill of a stone under his cheek.

“You dreamt of stretching longer than you are,” Cole said above him. Zevran grimaced.

“Indeed I did,” Zevran said and coughed. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry.” Suddenly Zevran felt the warmth of Cole leaning over him. He hissed out through his teeth as he let Cole turn him onto his back and then help him into a sitting position. It took longer than it should have since Cole only used one hand. 

Zevran breathed out painfully and looked around. They were definitely in a prison cell. Lavellan was nowhere to be seen. 

Cole had a large bruise running down his neck to his chest but other than that and the hand limp at his side, he didn’t look too badly hurt. However, his eyes were wide and unfocused and he kept shuddering as he looked around their cell.

“Are you all right?” Zevran asked quietly. 

“They gave me something to drink when hurting me didn’t help them. It sang and ran through my head and now every thought is bigger than the last. I don’t want to be in here.” Cole closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “They’re coming again.”

“We should have put the elves together, Titus,” one of the guards said as he came down the stairs. Zevran pulled himself over to the bars and stared out. They had Lavellan held between them, his arms tightly bound together and a thin collar around his neck that was inscribed with runes.

“Well, why did you put that boy with him then?” Titus sounded annoyed. He yanked a sluggish Lavellan up to his feet. “You knew we wouldn’t be that long fitting this one with a collar.”

“Where else was I supposed to put him? The cells are full to bursting these days.” The guard paused in front of Zevran and Cole’s cell and he gave his partner a penetrating look. “You know where we could put the boy.”

“Aulus, he’ll be dead before morning.” Titus shook his head. “Lord Pavus wants them all alive.”

“You know he’ll want the elves before this one.” Aulus looked Cole over dismissively and scoffed. “He’s not as pretty to look at.”

“It’s your bloody funeral.” Titus shrugged and hit the bars of the cell hard. “Back up, you two.”

“Much easier commanded than done,” Zevran muttered and let Cole help him slowly move to the back of the cell.

The guards threw Lavellan roughly into the cell. He fell to the ground beside Zevran and moaned quietly, but otherwise didn’t stir. Aulus gestured at Cole.

“Come on out. Slowly. We’re putting you with a new friend.”

“No. I don’t want to go with you,” Cole said, his voice shaky. Zevran clutched at his shirtsleeve and tried to catch his eyes but Cole was clearly too befuddled by whatever they’d given him. Cole shrank back into a corner of the cell and watched the guards with huge eyes. “I remember you. You’ll hurt me and put me somewhere dark and deep and forget about me!”

“We’ve no time for this, brat,” Aulus snapped. He walked into the cell and grabbed Cole by his injured arm. It was a testament to how frightened he was that Cole only whimpered low in his throat from the pain and tried to burrow deeper into the corner.

“Stop,” Lavellan said, gingerly pushing himself up against the wall. He spit blood to the ground and spoke in a voice Zevran had never heard from him before, strong and commanding. “Don’t hurt him. He’ll go with you. Tell me he won’t be hurt if he goes with you.”

“How dare you speak to me so brazenly,” Aulus said in surprise but outside the cell Titus shrugged hard.

“Stop wasting time, Aulus.” He nodded at Lavellan. “The boy will be fine if he behaves. At least as long as he’s down here. I can’t speak for Lords Pavus and Alexius.”

“Titus, don’t sully your tongue speaking reason to this animal. They barely understand the Common Tongue.” Aulus sneered but did let go of Cole’s arm and watched him slide down the wall and bury his face in his arms.

“Cole, listen to me.” With some difficulty Lavellan made his way over to Cole. He dropped painfully to his knees and spoke quietly to him. “We will all get back home. I promise you. I will never forget about you. Do you trust me?”

Cole raised his head, fine trembles still running down his body. “Do you remember them? They died and now they’re here. People are not supposed to be both at the same time.”

“Yes.” Lavellan looked behind him to the guards. “I know. I'll fix it.”

There was a promise in his voice as he stood and stared at the guards. His eyes lingered on Titus for longer even as Aulus led Cole out of the cell. Lavellan got to the bars of the cell as they closed and he leaned against them.

“I watched you die once,” Lavellan told Titus as the men began leading Cole away. “I look forward to seeing it again.”

Titus and Aulus glanced at one another and laughed. The noise was weaker than they probably hoped that it would be. Lavellan had sounded too certain.

“Cheer up, brat, you probably won’t be down here long enough to be forgotten,” Aulus said with false bravado, loudly. “The creature will likely eat you before the week is up. Would you care to wager on it, Titus?”

“Hmmm?” Titus dragged his eyes away from where they’d been locked with Lavellan’s steely glare. “Ah, I’ll bet on the beast showing a little more restraint. It’ll be two weeks before the hunger is too much for him.”

This time when the men laughed it was a much more genuine sound. They led a limp Cole down several flights of stairs and through a series of winding tunnels to a room with only a single dark cell. They stopped in front of it.

“We’ve brought you a new toy, creature. Be more gentle with this one,” Aulus said mockingly as he unlocked the cell. He was clearly more nervous than his jeers indicated as his hand shook by the keyhole. Titus had his sword out as Aulus opened the door just enough to shove Cole through it. Then he quickly slammed it shut.

Deep within the large cell there was a rustling in the dark. Cole slid down to the ground once more, too shaken and addled by the drugs to react right away as a figure came towards him. However once the creature came out into the dim light at the front of the cell, Cole’s mouth fell open and he froze.

“I don’t like sharing,” Iron Bull said, slamming his hand against the cell door and leaning menacingly over Cole. Even hunched over the broken tops of his horns scraped the low ceiling. He narrowed his eyes at him and reached down, winding his hand in Cole’s collar. “And I’m not going to start now. Understand me?”


	11. Track A

_Suddenly there was familiar knocking at his door._

_Iron Bull sighed. “Here we go again.”_

_Cole curled ever tighter up against him in response. Iron Bull slid his arm down and pulled Cole up with him when he sat up. He ran his hand down until it encircled Cole’s waist and he squared his shoulders._

_“Come in,” he said in the Common Tongue._

The door flew open and to Iron Bull’s surprise Varric came strolling in, holding a large bottle of dark amber liquid in one hand. He came to a sudden stop when he saw them in bed and threw his hands over his eyes, nearly missing braining himself with the bottle by an inch.

“Seriously, Tiny?” Varric said. “I came to do something nice for you and you do this to me and my poor eyes. Kid, please pull up that blanket a bit, for me.”

“Mmmm, sorry, Varric,” Iron Bull said dismissively. He stretched out more on the bed even as Cole obediently began cocooning himself in the blanket. Bull nodded to the bottle in Varric’s hand. “What do you have there?”

“A fan sent me this Orzammar whiskey. It’s illegal in every city on the surface and I was planning on sharing it with you but you look busy.” Still holding his hand over his eyes Varric turned to go.

“No, no, don’t go. I thought you were Red. Let me get my clothes on.” Iron Bull ran his thumb a little longingly over Cole’s covered neck but got up and began dressing. After a moment Cole followed suit, yawning slightly.

“So your explanation is that you thought that your brother was going to see the two of you naked? You know, I don’t want to know.” Varric waved his hand.

Iron Bull considered repeating for the millionth time that Red was as much his brother as Harding and Dagna were Varric’s little sisters but it didn’t seem worth the effort. Not when there was fine dwarven whiskey he could be drinking instead.

“Kid, I got some glasses in the dresser. Go grab them for me,” Iron Bull said. 

“All right,” Cole said and fumbled through the dresser drawers in a way that Iron Bull found completely adorable until he found the tumblers.

“Why is this illegal?” Iron Bull asked after Varric had poured him a healthy amount of the amber-colored whiskey. 

Varric poured himself a smaller glass and grimaced. “Because this shit can burn a hole in the stomach of a human or elf the size of my fist.”

The two of them raised the glasses in the air and then paused when Cole spoke slowly, “Can I have some?”

“I don’t know, Kid, Orzammar whiskey is no joke.” Varric frowned as Iron Bull pulled Cole onto his lap and affectionately squeezed his hip.

“Let him have a sip. Cole’s a big, bad demon. A little whiskey won’t hurt.” 

“If you start bleeding from your eyes, I’m telling Lavellan that it was all Tiny’s idea,” Varric warned Cole but poured him a tiny amount of the whiskey.

“It looks like Cassandra’s cider. She told me that I could have some when no one was around to hear but I didn’t want any then.” Cole held up the glass and peered intently at it.

Iron Bull chuckled. Varric scowled. “Well, it sure as shit doesn’t taste like her cider. You know she makes it herself? It should be a crime to make alcohol taste so bad.”

“When did you have some?” Iron Bull asked, snorting. “Does she give some to everybody she interrogates?”

“Yeah, it really gets you ready for the torture.” Varric grinned wide to hide the fact that he’d almost let slip his nights spent drinking with Cassandra until they fumbled into bed together. He flashed Cole a warning glance that he was certain the kid was too distracted to notice and raised his glass again. “How about…to that new redheaded barmaid. The one that makes those great pancakes?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Iron Bull said and tapped his glass to Varric’s. Cole was too busy still looking at his so Iron Bull and Varric shrugged to one another and tipped it back.

“Fuck!” Varric slammed his glass on the table and shook his head hard. “It’s just as bad as I remember it.”

“Now that’s a real drink.” Iron Bull reached for the bottle to pour another large glass. He rubbed Cole’s elbow. “You going to try it?”

Cole very slowly raised the glass to his lips and tilted it back. He swallowed it all just as slowly and set the glass on the table with a neat clink. He blinked under the fringe of his hair. “It’s burning me.”

“I really hope that’s not literal.” Varric poured another small glass for himself and reluctantly waved it at Cole. “You good?”

Cole blinked again, careful and deliberate. “I want more.”

Iron Bull clapped Cole hard on the back. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Cole almost tumbled out of Iron Bull’s lap from the force of his friendly pat but steadied himself immediately and began pouring another glass of the whiskey, this time larger than what Varric had provided him before. Varric shook his head but didn’t say anything when Cole began drinking it with hesitant sips, making faces whenever it touched his tongue.

“Ah, hello,” Red said from Iron Bull’s open door. “I wondered where you were.”

“And it took you all day to try my room. Tama would be disappointed in you, Kaaras.” Iron Bull waved Red in impatiently. “Grab yourself a glass out of the third drawer and try some of this dwarven whiskey.” 

“Orzammar whiskey? I would enjoy that.” Red rummaged through the drawer until he found a glass and came to the table. “It’s not nearly as weak as most _bas_ drink.”

“You had it before?” Varric pushed back in his chair and regarded Red with hooded eyes.

“Oh, yes. We’ve intercepted dwarven merchants on their way to the Imperium. They’ve often carried this. Tevinters seem to enjoy it.” Red sniffed at the drink and sighed. “Delightful.”

“So do the Qunari spend a lot of their time raiding dwarf merchants or is that a special occasion sort of thing?” Varric swiftly downed another glass and smacked the table hard. “Shit!”

“I suppose it’s fairly common. I’ve never done it myself.” Red took a measured sip of the whiskey. “That’s not my vocation.”

“What is your job exactly when you’re not asking every servant what they do when they’re not cleaning?” Varric asked.

“Similar things. I gather information for the Tamassrans so that they are able to do their jobs more effectively.” Red peered through the glass to Cole and suddenly smiled tolerantly. “Do you enjoy drinking, Cole? Many demons express a preference for alcohol when they’re in the world proper.”

“My mouth is fading,” Cole said uncertainly, touching his lips with gentle fingers. He stared at Red. “You fell into a fog and you’re scared that it’s where you have to live now.”

“Well, I guess two is your limit,” Iron Bull said decisively, taking the empty glass from Cole’s hand and placing it back on the table.

“I want more,” Cole protested, reaching back. Iron Bull gathered up the questing hand and put it against his chest. 

“Bad idea, Kid.” Varric shook his head. “That’s a ticket to a lousy morning.”

“But you liked it when you and Cassandra were softer with drink and could talk beyond the parts of you that don’t fit together. And then you did fit together and you liked that best of all,” Cole said. He pressed his hand to his head and then cuddled in close to Iron Bull’s shoulder. “This room is hotter than it was before.”

“Well, fuck,” Varric said, rubbing his head.

“So what’s that about you and Cassandra?” Iron Bull asked as Cole attempted to curl up in his lap, yawning throatily.

Varric shook his head hard. “Let’s not go there. Even this shit isn’t enough to make me want to talk about that.”

“Lady Cassandra is Nevarran, correct? They have fascinating death rituals. I attempted to ask her questions about them but she was rather terse about the whole thing.” Red looked very disappointed, as though the one thing that would have made him happiest in the world was hearing about Nevarran mummification. Iron Bull thought that this was probably true.

“The Seeker’s a little touchy about, well, everything. Don’t take it personally.” Varric stared at the bottle for a moment and then rose to his feet. “Not that this isn’t fun but I think I want to go pass out in the kitchen and scare the cook in the morning.”

Cole had fallen to sleep against Iron Bull’s shoulder and didn’t stir even when Varric patted his shoulder as he went past them. Iron Bull shifted until Cole was in a more comfortable position on his lap. 

“Have a good night, Varric,” Iron Bull said. He watched him leave and then reached for the bottle. “Enough of this glass crap.”

He took a long, healthy swig and offered the bottle to Red. He accepted it and began drinking slow and steady. Red set the bottle back on the table and wiped his mouth. “You had sex earlier.”

“Yeah, so?” Iron Bull knew he had no reason to feel defensive but he did anyway, the excuses curling up in him like he was a naughty child before a Tamassran. 

“Disappointing. I’d hoped to observe it but the two of you couple so infrequently.” Red took another drink and considered. “You’ve never been one to abstain from sexual gratification. Does the demon find it difficult to manage?”

“You want to watch us have sex?” Iron Bull’s voice must have been louder than he thought because it made Cole shift from his relaxed position against him. Iron Bull rubbed his back reflexively until he stilled again.

Red’s brow furrowed in surprise. “Of course. Demons are manipulative creatures, especially when it comes to healthy biological imperatives. You knew this creature before that day on the Storm Coast.”

“We weren’t having sex then.” Iron Bull suddenly stood up, Cole nestled in his arms. He put him in the bed, unable to completely hide his amusement when Cole clung tighter to him for a moment and then sleepily transferred all his limbs to the mass of pillows near him.

“I believe you, of course.” Red sounded genuine but Iron Bull scowled at him anyway. “But it’s possible and indeed likely that the demon was attempting to manipulate you before you began your carnal relations. Were you close before then?”

Iron Bull snorted at the idea of Cole trying to manipulate anything. “We were close, I guess. He’s a good kid and I wanted to look out for him. Cole’s not like other demons. He doesn’t try to mess with people’s heads.”

“Really?” Red pulled out his parchment and scratched something down. “He certainly seems to feel free to express what is in people’s minds without their consent. What is that if not an attempt at manipulation?”

“He’s just trying to help. He doesn’t completely get why it’s a problem.” Iron Bull grabbed at the bottle and frowned. Trust Red to hit on one of his actual issues with Cole. “He’s working on it.”

“Admirable. Then he expresses a willingness to change his natural behavior in order to please you?” Red wrote more on his parchment. “That’s interesting.”

“Kaaras, it’s getting late,” Iron Bull said in tired Qunlat. 

“Ah, yes. The gardener has promised to tell me about the different sorts of plants she has in the courtyard tomorrow morning. So many varieties.” Red stood up and stretched out his shoulders. “Can we return to the idea of my observing your next sexual encounter, whenever that might be?”

Iron Bull pursed his lips. He didn’t know why the idea disturbed him so much. It was completely common for there to be observers when a Qunari visited a Tamassran for sexual release. Until he’d left home he’d never had sex where there wasn’t someone watching in the background, sometimes offering advice or admonishment. He’d been so turned on the first time he’d slept with a beautiful soldier and they’d been completely alone that he’d gone off like a geyser almost immediately. It had felt unbearably filthy and taboo.

“Cole will have to be okay with it,” Iron Bull said finally, although he knew that if he mentioned it Cole wouldn’t see a problem with the idea. 

“Of course. Even demon _bas_ must have odd ideas when it comes to sex.” Red shook his head. “They all struggle so much, Ashkaari, and so needlessly. The world is so much simpler than they realize.”

“Yeah,” Iron Bull said shortly. After Red left Iron Bull sat for almost an hour in his chair, drinking the rest of the whiskey and thinking about the simplicity of the world. 

“ _Shok ebasit hissra_ ,” he murmured softly in the darkness and went to bed next to a sweet, murderous demon.

 

“Boss, this is Red Hammer. He’s here in an official capacity from the homeland to observe me for the Tamassrans.” Iron Bull watched with some surprise when Red politely bowed his head to Lavellan, who was staring down at them with tired, impatient eyes from his halla mount. 

Dorian yawned beside him on his horse and drawled out, “Is he a better spy than you were, Bull?”

Iron Bull shrugged.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Inquisitor. The Iron Bull’s early reports of your organization were fascinating.” Red turned to Dorian. “And you must be Dorian Pavus, from the House of Pavus in Qarinus. The Inquisitor’s Tevinter lover.”

“I’m pleased to be so famous,” Dorian said sharply.

“It’s odd to see an elf and a Tevinter mage in an equitable relationship. Do you find it difficult to disregard your natural instincts to command the Inquisitor to do your bidding?” Iron Bull didn’t even have to look to know that Red had pulled out that parchment again and was waiting for the answer with the quill held expectantly over it.

“Don’t be foolish. I never disregard those instincts,” Dorian said with the airy haughtiness that made him particularly attractive to Iron Bull, even beyond his pretty face and body. Iron Bull hid a grin.

Lavellan coughed, rubbing his suddenly pink face. “It was certainly…something to meet you, Red Hammer, but I’ve been traveling for days and I really only want a bath and my bed.”

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Red bowed again, a motion that Iron Bull found just as baffling the second time. “Hopefully when you’re completely rested, you’ll honor me by answering some questions about what happened on the Storm Coast that day. You and of course Lord Pavus. My reports indicate that on that day Iron Bull was accompanied by you, Lord Pavus, and the demon Cole. I would like to ask you all a few clarifying questions.”

“Perhaps,” Lavallan said shortly and nudged his halla away. Dorian followed him closely, looking back for a moment with inscrutable eyes. Red watched them go with his head tilted at a curious angle.

“He’s less charismatic than I expected him to be,” Red mused thoughtfully. “Although obviously great power is its own charisma among the _bas_.”

“Why do you want to ask the Boss about that day at the Storm Coast? What’s that got to do with whether I’m crazy or not?” Iron Bull scratched around his horns. The past few days with Red had been as exhausting and confusing as the first few. He’d continued his mission to question everyone in Skyhold about everything that had absolutely nothing to do with Iron Bull. He’d also never again brought up his desire to watch Iron Bull and Cole fuck, although to be fair Iron Bull had been avoiding the issue, which was easy to do when each day was spend in whirlwind of activity with Red. He collapsed straight into his bed most nights anyway.

“Everything, Ashkaari.” Red frowned at Iron Bull in surprise. “That moment on the Storm Coast when you chose a few _bas_ soldiers over a Qunari dreadnaught represents every concern that the Tamassrans have over your sanity. Without input from the Inquisitor, any report I submitted would be worthless. It’s only now that my investigation can begin. We’ll start in the morning. You will tell me your version of the events and then Cole and then Lord Pavus and then the Inquisitor.”

Red clapped Iron Bull’s arm and grinned, broadly and eagerly. “I’m thrilled to actually be able to begin my work. I feel like I’ve been as lazy as a druffalo since I’ve arrived.”

Iron Bull blinked in disbelief as Red strode back into the keep, a bounce in his steps that was clear to anyone who looked at him. 

“Fucking great,” Iron Bull muttered and followed him back inside.

 

The throaty squawk of the messenger crow pierced through Varric’s idle daydreams as he sat beside the fire. He glanced over to it and had to shake his head when he saw what Isabela had done. He had to hand it to her. She had actually sent this one back nearly in the same state as when she’d gotten it. The tiny pirate hat it was wearing must have been bother when it was flying however.

The crow lifted its leg obediently when Varric went to untie the message from it but it snapped at his fingers when he tried to remove the little hat. It squawked in a voice that was surprisingly light and high, “Prick!”

“Oh, I’m in trouble,” Varric muttered but gave the crow a treat just the same. It happily nibbled at his finger in thanks and flew off with a merry little stream of “pricks” that made everyone in the hall turn to stare.

“Who knows where they pick up this stuff, right?” Varric shrugged at a nearby Orlesian noblewoman, who sniffed and fanned herself in response.

Varric unrolled the note and leaned back in his chair to read it.

_My dear friend,_

_I trust you’ll see that I’ve returned this crow in even better shape than when you sent it to me. Fenris was responsible for finding a leather craftsman capable of such tiny works of art. I told him what you said about smiling more and he was so grateful for your advice that he taught the crow some words to thank you. I helped._

[Here Isabela had drawn a truly terrible picture that Varric eventually realized was Fenris talking to the crow, which was confusingly as big as him. An obscenely busty stick figure wearing a huge triangle on its head was standing nearby]

_I don’t like secrets, unless they’re mine of course, and I don’t appreciate you keeping them from me but I’ve decided to be the bigger person and send you all these provocative supplies without prying. I won’t even expect an explanation later when you’ve done whatever you’re doing._

[Here was a drawing of Varric apparently wooing what looked like a room filled with bosomy dwarf women] 

_Your pick-up will be at our usual place at our usual time. It might be a nice surprise for you when you get there or you might be furious with me. It wasn’t my idea though. He happened to be nearby and offered to make the drop. I always have a hard time saying no to a handsome man._

[This was just a dick. It was unsurprisingly her best illustration]

_Love,_

_The Admiral_

_P.S. I kissed Merrill the way that you suggested but she didn’t seem to like it as much as our usual kisses. I think you need to spend more time actually with a woman instead of just writing more of those wonderful, awful romances featuring our Big Girl._

_P.P.S. Unless that’s who you actually want to be kissing! Please let this be true. I’ll be a good girl for the rest of my life if it is. As I think about it dear Aveline’s first baby did have hair that was almost your exact color…_

[Here Varric could only assume was a drawing of Aveline’s firstborn with a chest full of hair and a tiny quill in its hand with him and Aveline holding it. He guessed that the blob in the corner was supposed to be Donnic]

Varric set down the letter and smirked out into nothing. Sometimes he really missed his friends. As he sat there he heard the crow fly up to Vivienne’s landing and squawk a loud, “Tits!”

After a moment of shocked silence Varric heard faint, cultured laughter coming from the balcony and only then did he feel safe to add his own raucous appreciation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that Vivienne's sense of humor is something that gets overlooked a lot. I love that she's the one that suggests that the Inquisitor shave her bits for Sera (even if it is a dismissive joke) and that if she's mad at you, she feels the sickest burn is to move all your stuff. I assume that she keeps that crow and teaches it polite words and everything for parties and then secretly teaches it to only call Solas a prick.


	12. Track B

_“I don’t like sharing,” Iron Bull said, slamming his hand against the cell door and leaning menacingly over Cole. Even hunched over the broken tops of his horns scraped the low ceiling. He narrowed his eyes at him and reached down, winding his hand in Cole’s collar. “And I’m not going to start now.”_

Over the few months that Iron Bull had spent in his prison cell, he’d seen all sorts of reactions to his presence from his potential cellmates. Some had been terrified and immediately begged for release, banging on the cell door until he knocked them out for some peace. Others, far more foolishly, had tried to challenge him and learned just exactly why he was the only prisoner in Redcliffe Castle to enjoy a solitary cell. 

So Iron Bull thought he was prepared for any reaction from the pale, skinny kid the guards threw into his home during his nap, when he was already in a foul mood. He would have put his money on terror given the fact that the kid was already shaking like a leaf before he came out of the shadows. 

He would have lost every gold coin.

“The Iron Bull,” the kid said. His pale eyes were foggy from pain and drugs but they lit up when he saw him. To Iron Bull’s shock, his new cellmate burst into tears and threw his arms around his thick shoulders. He clung to Iron Bull with surprisingly strong arms and dripped snot all over his neck.

“Fuck.” Iron Bull shoved the kid away from him, hard enough that his shoulders bounced against the wall behind him. He nearly apologized when the kid raised huge, hurt eyes up at him and rubbed his limb arm. 

“Hey, look,” Iron Bull started and didn’t know where to go from there. “How did you know my name?”

“The first time you saw one, you laughed with them,” the kid said slowly, sliding down the wall to the floor. His long legs rose up in front of him like a shield and he buried his face in his knees. “You made the joke into armor so that the _bas_ couldn’t see you.”

“Who are you? Who sent you here?” Iron Bull dropped to his knees and grabbed the kid by the shoulders. In all the time he’d spent in Ferelden, he’d never even dared wish for rescue but now hope began to slide from his stomach. He spoke slowly in Qunlat, “Are you Ben-Hassrath? Are they looking for me?”

The kid shook his head into his knees. “We thought it might fit but it couldn’t. I can’t be me and them at the same time.”

The disappointment gutted Iron Bull like a knife. He shoved away from the crazy kid and stood up in the dark cell that had become his entire world. He nearly turned the hot fury boiling inside him against his new cellmate but he shoved it down at the last minute. The kid already looked so sad and pathetic that he couldn’t bring himself to hurt him. He turned his head and growled out, “Are you a mage then? Is that how you know my name?”

“I’m not a mage,” the kid said sharply. “He didn’t want it and he died like this and I’m not him.”

“You’re fucking crazy. That must be why you’re here. Pavus got tired of breaking you and threw you down here with his other castoffs.” Iron Bull dragged his hand over the splintered bone of his broken left horn and breathed out. “What’s your name?”

“Cole,” the kid said in a small voice. “But that word doesn’t live on your tongue. It doesn’t mean that I’m yours and I am.”

Iron Bull sighed. “Whatever, kid. Just you stay on that side of the cell and I’ll stay wherever I want and we’ll get along for now. Got it?”

“You have two eyes,” Cole said, sounding somehow more horrified by that fact than by anything that Iron Bull had said to him. He pressed his check against his knees and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted from pain and from whatever drug was making his pale eyes swim in his face. “I want to go home.”

“Good luck with that,” Iron Bull muttered to the cell door. When he looked at the kid again, he’d fallen asleep against the wall, his lean body curled up protectively. Iron Bull pursed his lips and shook his head. Pavus had really outdone himself this time with the dickbaggery.

 

“Lord Pavus requests your presence,” Aulus said and then snickered. Beside him, Titus just watched Lavellan push himself up off of the wall with tired arms.

“My friend needs a healer,” Lavellan said, gesturing to Zevran on the cot. He’d passed out hours ago from the pain and Lavellan was worried. The guards had beaten him worse than he’d let on.

“We’ll not waste her time with some Antivan knife-ear.” Aulus reached into the cell and grabbed Lavellan by the arm, dragging him out. He leaned in close to Lavellan, breath sour against his neck. “If he dies, you might get that gangly brat back in here. At least then he’ll live.”

“So Cole is still alive,” Lavellan said. He didn’t let a trace of his profound relief cross his face. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Cheeky whore. Lord Pavus won’t be as patient with your arrogant ways as we’ve been,” Titus said suddenly. “You’ll need to keep a civil tongue in your mouth if you want to keep it.”

“You died in agony,” Lavellan said, meeting Titus’s eyes as Aulus dragged him up the prison stairs. “We saved you for last and threw your body in a ravine. Wild dogs tore it apart.”

“You bastard!” Aulus let Lavellan’s arm go in order to raise his fist to him but in that moment the elf elbowed him hard in the stomach. He grabbed his sword off of him as Aulus gasped for breath and Lavellan immediately lunged for Titus, thrusting the point of the sword into his thigh.

Titus bellowed in pain and went down hard on the prison stairs. Lavellan kneed him in the face and leaned down to grab his cell keys. He was about to run back down the stairs when suddenly he was paralyzed mid-step. A slow, mocking clapping began behind him.

“Very amusing,” Dorian said and Lavellan felt his limbs turning around without his permission. Dorian stood at the top of the stairs, draped in a loose silken robe that Lavellan would have found alluring in any other circumstance. The smirk on Dorian’s face would also have been alluring if there had been any trace of his normal warmth or humanity in it. 

Dorian descended the stars and regarded the also frozen guards for a few critical moments. He sighed heavily and shrugged at Lavellan, “I’ll have you know that I didn’t pick them. They were Alexius’s choice. Very disappointing.”

Lavellan tried to speak but his voice was stuck in his frozen throat. All that came out was a strangled moan.

“You were rather heroic though,” Dorian said. “All headstrong and brave. Tell me, how do you think that a Dalish elf would have gotten out of a castle filled with Tevinter mages? You stick out a bit.”

Movement returned to Lavellan in a sudden rush, toppling him to his hands and knees. Dorian came close and took the sword out of his nerveless hands. He tossed it onto Titus’s lap and clucked at him when he moaned in pain. 

“Please be more careful with our other prisoners. The point is to keep them here. You may want to write that down.” Dorian snapped his fingers at Lavellan and began walking back up the stairs. Lavellan fought against the compulsion but he was up at Dorian’s side in seconds.

“I promise you that things are normally much more organized,” Dorian said, companionably taking Lavellan’s arm in his own as they walked down the hallway. “My assistant Felix has been involved in another project and I’m truly lost without his help. You understand what it’s like for busy men, of course. I could tell that you were something important in your world.”

“I’m the leader of the Inquisition,” Lavellan said in as cool a tone as he could muster. His voice still broke a bit when he continued. “You’re my most valuable companion.”

“Lovely. It’s a relief to know that my double has the same good taste that I do.” Dorian stopped in front of a large red door and smiled at Lavellan as he reached for a set of keys at his side. “Let me show you what I’m working on.”

 

“ _Kaffas_!” Dorian collapsed heavily to the ground as the bright magical field around him splintered apart. He was struggling to catch his breath as Iron Bull knelt down beside him. 

“You need to take a break,” Iron Bull said. He brought a cup of water to his mouth and frowned when Dorian shoved it away. 

“You need to back up a few paces before I accidentally send half of you into the future. This is delicate magic.” Dorian rubbed his face hard and snatched the cup from Iron Bull’s waiting hand. He drank it all in a quick gulp before raising his staff up into a pose that Iron Bull was becoming very familiar with seeing. This time the magical field collapsed almost immediately and Dorian fell hard to his knees.

“Enough!” Cassandra ordered as walked into the circle Dorian had drawn around the campfire where the others had disappeared. She’d been conferring with Josephine all day while Iron Bull watched Dorian attempt to recreate the magic his double had used. “You do not even know if what you are doing will help.”

“We have to do something,” Dorian snapped. He threw his staff onto the ground. “I can’t just stand around and hope that he’ll come back! I have to keep trying.”

“You’re accomplishing nothing.” Cassandra crossed her arms against her chest and levelled the full force of her impressive stare at Dorian. “We must make other plans.”

“I’m not leaving this spot until I find him,” Dorian said and while Iron Bull fervently agreed—and would be more than willing to prove that point if Cassandra pushed it—he also knew that she was right. They were vulnerable in this part of the forest, too close to the Imperium to pretend like they were doing anything but traveling to it and too unusual a group to avoid attention.

“I am not suggesting that,” Cassandra said sharply before softening her voice a bit. “I’m merely speaking plain facts. We are expected in Minrathous and every moment that we linger is a moment in which the Divine is in greater danger of discovery.”

“Void take the Divine! This was all Leliana’s doing to begin with. If she wasn’t so secretive, we never would have had to come here.” Dorian slumped a bit on the ground and sighed. “Admittedly I don’t know that Skyhold would have been any greater defense against whatever madness happened.”

“Let me make a suggestion,” Iron Bull said. He settled down on an old log and looked up at Cassandra. “You take the fake Divine and the others and go to Minrathous. Josephine can think of something to explain why the Boss is running late. Family troubles, secret Dalish rituals, some bullshit. I’ll stay here with Dorian and when they get back, we’ll follow you.”

“And if they don’t come back?” Cassandra asked. She was a soldier through and through and Iron Bull respected the steel in her that forced her to ask that question even while he appreciated the genuine concern on her face.

“Then we’ll go find them and bring them back,” Iron Bull said, steel running under his own words. That wasn’t in question. He’d rip apart the Fade if he had to but he was getting his demon back.

Cassandra nodded. Her face was a grim mask as she accepted what she was going to do. “Then we are in agreement. We’ll leave at dawn.”

She turned as if to go but paused in order to place her hand on Dorian’s shoulder. He glanced up at her in surprise. 

“I know that the Inquisitor is not a believer but we are.” Cassandra squeezed his shoulder. “We must trust that the Maker will keep him safe.”

For once Dorian didn’t have any smart remarks to make. He simply nodded and then rose to his feet once again. He squared his shoulders, stabbing his staff into the ground in the first stance of his ritual, before tossing his head at Iron Bull.

“Will you please try to be useful and get me something to eat? I am attempting to replicate unimaginably powerful magic while you’re just sitting there.”

Iron Bull actually laughed and the sound loosened something in his chest. He didn’t believe in their Maker but he did believe in his friends. They wouldn’t fail. “You got it, big guy.” 

 

Iron Bull was startled out of an uneasy sleep by the feel of something pressing against him. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that it was the kid—Cole—trying to very quietly join him on the sole cot in the cell. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Iron Bull asked in a harsh whisper. Cole had left him in peace for most of the day after he’d recovered from whatever drug the guards had given him. When the daily meal had been shoved through the slot in the door, Iron Bull had eaten every bit of it after describing to the kid what would happen to him if he tried to take any. He’d felt a thin sliver of guilt as he’d glared at Cole’s skinny frame and felt that sliver grow fat when the kid had merely nodded, pressing his long-fingered hands together fitfully. He’d thought that he might share a little the next day, if he could control the angry hungry roar of his stomach long enough to split it. They always gave him so little.

Later he’d settled to bed and told Cole that if he tried anything while he slept, then he would be his next meal, and the kid had just stared at him with those enormous blue eyes. They were disconcerting, even without the haze that had filmed them over before. The kid looked at him like he could see straight down to the bone.

“I can’t sleep without you. The walls are too close and I can feel the other Cole dying again. It feels like me this time,” Cole murmured softly, apologetically. He squirmed against him and Iron Bull’s arm shot out to his hip. He’d been in his cell for a long time and he was in no state to deal with the feel of a warm body pressing into his lap.

“You need to stop before we have a problem,” Iron Bull warned and for a brief, bright moment hated himself so much that he wished that he was dead. There was a time when even the idea of taking advantage of this crazy and frightened kid couldn’t have found purchase in his mind. Now he could barely keep himself from moving his hand from that lean hip to the firm ass pressing against him.

Cole stilled his slight movements and turned his head a bit over his shoulder to look at him. His hair was a mess of bright gold around his pointed face. Then very slowly and deliberately he pressed his hips back against Iron Bull’s crotch.

“I said stop,” Iron Bull said, his hand digging into soft skin. He knew he should throw the kid back to his side of the room and spend the rest of the night trying not to think about his worried pink mouth and how it might feel around him.

“Yes,” Cole murmured. He suddenly slipped his arm back between their bodies, his long fingers caressing Iron Bull’s hardening cock under the rough fabric of his trousers. “That’s what I need. Please, let me. Tell me what to do so that all the extra people will stop hurting where they didn’t before.”

“Fuck.” Iron Bull moaned under the kid’s clever fingers. He didn’t know if it had really just been that long or if Cole was particularly skilled at this, but his hand was working over him in the most perfect way he’d ever experienced with another person. It was like he knew exactly where and how to touch him.

“The Iron Bull, please make me listen to just you.” Cole paused and then Iron Bull heard a tiny gasp from him. He quickly reached his hand around Cole’s front to where he was touching himself with his injured hand. Iron Bull was shoving his hand away before he could think about it and pressing firmly against his leathers, sliding his thumb down the front. 

“I warned you,” Iron Bull said but his excuse lacked heat and conviction. He yanked down Cole’s tight leathers far enough to bare his pale, round ass. Iron Bull wished for a moment that it wasn’t so dark in his cell so that he could see the way his hand left red marks as he dug his fingers into his soft skin. He especially wished that he could see his little hole, could see how eager it could be if he pressed his thumb to it.

Cole moaned, a breathy sound that went straight to Iron Bull’s cock, and he reached up behind him, his hand searching for something up around Iron Bull’s head. When he didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for he dug his fingers into the cot and began grinding back against Iron Bull.

“You can have what you want,” Cole said eagerly. “You want me tight and twisting while you use me. I want that too. “

“Quit talking,” Iron Bull ordered, unsettled by closely Cole’s words mirrored his thoughts. He wrapped his hand around Cole’s mouth, ignoring the way he bit gently at the skin there, and began rutting against him in earnest. 

It was artless and rough. He’d shown more skill and restraint as a teenager during his first visit to the tamassrans but he couldn’t care, not when Cole moaned wetly behind his hand as he thrust against his ass. He imagined pulling his cock out from his trousers and shoving it into Cole’s grasping, greedy hole. Would he really be so eager to take it? Would his breathy cries choke from pleasure or would it be too much for him? Would he beg?

Iron Bull came with a sharp groan at the thoughts running through his head. He yanked Cole tight against him as the aftershocks spit through him, his hand still firm around his mouth. He could hear Cole panting frantic behind his hand, sharper and quicker, before he suddenly bit hard into Iron Bull’s palm. 

“Ouch,” Iron Bull muttered but in truth he felt nothing but profound relief. He almost felt like himself again as he slid his hand down to find that Cole had spilled without any help. It made him feel pleased enough not to react when Cole shifted around so that he was facing him.

“I can feel me again,” Cole murmured, pressing his forehead against Iron Bull’s chest and cuddling in close. “Thank you.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Iron Bull didn’t pull his arm away from where it was still draped over Cole’s hip. He never lied to himself so he resolutely thought nothing of what had happened as sleep began to creep into the corners of his eyes. He’d deal with this situation in the morning.


	13. Track A

“I’ve already told you what happened three times!” Lavellan stood suddenly and slammed his fists down onto the desk. “How many more times must I repeat the same damned thing!”

Iron Bull shifted only slightly from his position against one of the thick posts on Lavellan’s bed. On the couch, Red Hammer didn’t even do that. He kept the same fixed, polite expression on his face as Lavellan began pacing in irritation around his grand bedroom.

“I apologize for the time-consuming nature of my investigation, Inquisitor.” Red set his quill down onto his broad lap. “You must understand how important a precise account of the events is to my people.”

“You’ve already spoken to Bull and Cole and Dorian. Have any of the accounts changed? What happened is what happened. Your damned questions won’t change that.” Lavellan ran his anchored hand through his hair and grimaced. Bull was about to suggest that they call it a day when Red stood as well.

“Of course, Inquisitor.” Red bowed his head, only slightly but it still stunned Iron Bull as much as the first time he’d done it. A Qunari bowed his head to no one, especially to a _bas saarebas_.

He found it as baffling as Red’s interrogation regarding the day of the dreadnaught’s explosion. He’d questioned Bull and only Bull on the first day. Iron Bull had given him every detail exactly as it had happened. He could practically smell the salt air from the Storm Coast as he’d recounted the number of Tevinter soldiers on the ground and gave Red exact descriptions of where his men and his friends had been and what they had said to him.

Red had asked few questions that day. It was a strange sort of acknowledgement that Bull had been Ben-Hassrath, who could always be trusted to tell all of the important information. At the end of his questioning that day, Bull had assumed he would move on to Cole but instead Red had taken in a late lunch and spent the rest of the day in the Undercroft.

The next day he had come to Bull early and asked to speak with Cole. They had found him up in his loft, face hidden by his hat as he had answered Red’s surprisingly gentle questions as simply as he could. His answers were still a mishmash of impressions, embarrassing thoughts from everybody present, and a thorough recitation of a poem that he’d said that day as they’d approached the shore. However for Cole it was practically a detailed report from one of Leliana’s scouts.

“Very good, Cole, thank you,” Red had said, setting his papers back into his bag and smiling at Cole tolerantly. Bull had been about to lead him back downstairs—thankful that it hadn’t been a painful interview—when Red had leaned forward and spoke again, “Has Ashkaari spoken to you about my request?”

“Kaaras,” Iron Bull started and then shook his head. It was his own damn fault for not talking to Cole right away. He’d been so delighted when Red had disappeared into the forge for half a day that he hadn’t even thought about talking to Cole regarding Red’s desire to watch them have sex. He’d been too busy having it. Repeatedly and so roughly that Sera had glared at him that morning when Cole had stumbled down the stairs after him.

“Ah, sorry.” Red waved his hands around in an apologetic gesture before leaning even more towards Cole. It would have looked threatening—a huge Qunari looming over some skinny human—but for the fact that Red seemed so delighted by his request. “I would be most interested in observing the next time you couple. You understand the fascination, of course.”

And Cole had actually nodded, cornflower blue eyes peeking up temporarily to Bull in a way that made him want to ask just what exactly it was that Cole understood.

“It’s your choice, kid,” Iron Bull said and Red had nodded.

“Of course, of course. It’s not a custom among the _bas_. Unless demon _bas_ are different in this regard?” Red had leaned forward even more and Bull would have pulled him away if Cole had looked anything but completely nonplussed by his invasion of his personal space.

“I would prefer that it was spirit,” Cole had said, soft but firm, and Red had nodded again with eagerness, repeating the word spirit as if the distinction meant anything to a Qunari. Cole had tilted his head. “All right.”

After that they made vague plans for when the observations could occur and Red had disappeared back into the forge. Iron Bull had thought about telling him to stay since he planned on fucking Cole over the railing as soon as he left but some part of him liked the idea of having him again alone thanks to Red’s newfound interest in Dagna’s work. 

Dorian’s interview had been the next day. Dorian had sat prim and straight and answered all of Red’s questions as curtly as possible. At the end Dorian had taken the opportunity to ask some of his own questions, all direct and confrontational regarding a mage’s role in Qunari society and the future plans of the Arishok regarding the Imperium.

To Bull’s surprise Red had answered nearly all of Dorian’s pointed questions and was apologetic when the conversation began to drift into matters of state that no Qunari could discuss with a _bas_ , especially a Vint one. 

But the conversation had been civil enough considering. It was on the fourth day that the tenor of the conversation changed. Bull and Red had gone up to the Inquisitor’s chambers, where Lavellan was sitting behind his desk and the piles of books he left cracked open on the floor.

Then Red had unleashed all of the intensity Bull had expected from him in the beginning. There wasn’t a question that he asked that didn’t have a follow-up question and several times he turned to Bull to confirm that things as small as the Inquisitor’s tone had been accurately represented from that day. He asked what the Inquisitor thought about the Chargers, if he’d ever met any Qunari prior to Bull, what his impressions of Gatt were as a Dalish elf meeting a Tevinter elf, and dozens of more probing questions, some so personal that the tips of Lavellan’s ears were bright-red before his outburst and from more than anger.

Now as Lavellan nearly panted from irritation as he glared at Red, Bull had to acknowledge what he’d been denying since the beginning. Kaaras wasn’t just here for him. He’d been an excuse for the Qunari to investigate the Inquisitor once they’d lost their man on the inside. The thought made him hot and uncomfortable with indecision. He would have to share his concerns with Lavellan, of course, but it felt like another betrayal of his former people.

“You’ve been more than helpful, Inquisitor. I apologize for the inconvenience of this investigation. I’ll only be a day more and then I will return to camp to make a full report to my superiors.” And Red nodded towards Lavellan once again and began moving out. 

This time Bull let him go alone, although he watched his retreating back closely. Was Red’s interest in Dagna’s research purely scientific or was it a part of his investigation into the Inquisition and their capabilities? Bull cursed himself that he was already so far removed from the higher workings of the Tamassrans that he couldn’t say for sure. His own interest would have been faked but Kaaras truly did love information just for the sake of it.

“He’s trouble, Bull,” Lavellan said suddenly. Bull glanced back at him, eyebrow arched. The little elf often seemed sheltered and naïve but he shouldn’t let himself forget that he was shrewd under his sometimes aggressive disinterest in political machinations.

“Yeah, Boss,” Bull said with a heavy sigh. He’d give Red the final thing he wanted and send him on his way before he invented some other reason to stick around and spy on them. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

“If you feel uncomfortable at any point tonight, you know your Watchword. Use it. You start to want Red out of here, say it and he’s gone. Right?” Bull fixed Red with an unyielding stare, daring him to disagree, but he nodded instantly.

“Of course. Please just proceed as if I’m not here. I won’t say a word until you’re done. Of course then, I wonder if I might ask a few questions?” Red already had his paper and quill out and was settled into Bull’s armchair like it’d been made for him. 

“We’ll see,” Bull said because he wasn’t really sure if he could stomach hearing any more damn questions, especially about this. 

Sitting on the bed, Cole gripped his hat tighter in his hands and blinked at Red. Bull wondered if he should have loosened his rule about Cole’s invasive mind-reading just for this but he decided that it would have just complicated things more. If Red thought that Cole was changing his behavior based on what he was thinking, he might decide he needed a repeat performance.

Bull reached down and took Cole’s chin in his hand, drawing his attention to him. “Don’t look at him. Just look at me.”

“Like before? In the cage when they were watching and wanting and you told me not to see them seeing me?” Cole’s chest shuddered up once, in response to Iron Bull’s sharp intake of breath and the sudden tightened grip on his face. Bull could practically feel Red’s desire to ask him questions about what Cole meant. He made a decision.

“I don’t want you to talk unless you need to use your Watchword,” Iron Bull said, trailing his thumb over Cole’s bottom lip. Cole had no filter, in words and in the adoration already showing in every eager line of his body. Iron Bull didn’t want him to give Red more than what he was already giving him. He considered gagging him just in case—and not just because the idea made his dick twitch happily in his loose trousers—but decided that he didn’t want to risk Cole getting too distracted to remember his limits. He slid his hand down to rest on the long, slim column of his neck. “Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

Cole nodded as slightly as Bull’s hand around his neck allowed him, his wide eyes locked on Bull’s face. His breath had already began picking up, the slight hitch in his chest telling Bull how much he was enjoying this dominant treatment. Bull felt a rush of affection swell up in him and he disguised it with a slow, thorough kiss. Cole sighed against his mouth and the swell grew larger, in more ways than one. His own little masochist.

When Bull pulled away he could hear the soft scratch of Red’s quill against the paper. He made his face a stone against the irritation that it gave him and he pulled Cole off of the bed, forcing him down to his knees. Cole was overeager, anticipating his order before he could make it and Bull grabbed him by his hair, pulling him away from his growing bulge.

“I didn't tell you to do that,” Bull said, just to hear Cole’s disappointed hum. He looked him over on the ground. “Take your clothes off.”

Anyone else might have looked to Red in that moment or shown some sort of discomfort at the idea of undressing in front of a stranger but Cole practically tore his shirt in his eagerness to pull it off his body. His tight leathers did tear as he tried to force them off of his long legs but Cole barely paid any attention to the hole he’d made. Bull rolled his eye at that. He’d have to remember to throw Cole’s clothes down to Krem before the kid tried to wear them again around the Keep.

Once he’d defeated his clothes, Cole shivered once, long and deep, as his hands went beseechingly out to Iron Bull’s hips. Bull thought about admonishing him for his assumption but decided that he’d prolonged this enough. Surely by this point he’d shown that he was in charge here, not a mind-controlling demon _bas_.

“Take it out. Get me wet.” Iron Bull returned his hand to Cole’s long, messy hair and tugged on it gently, experimentally, as Cole worked open his belt and pulled his cock out of his trousers. He was less hard than he normally was at this point but Cole didn’t seem to mind as he slipped his warm mouth around him. Cole took him in deep and moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. He wasn’t having any trouble getting hard. In fact, Bull thought he looked even more aroused than usual. Bull narrowed his eye. He had an exhibitionist on his hands. He’d have to remember that the next time they visited one of the decadent Orlesian cities where such tastes could be celebrated if you knew where to go. And Bull knew all the best and worst places to go.

Despite Bull’s slight discomfort over their audience, he quickly grew hard under Cole’s eager tongue. The kid was getting pretty skilled. One night Bull was going to tie him down and really put him through his paces until he proved that he was as good a cocksucker as he seemed to want to be.

“That’s nice; you’re doing good,” Bull said in a low voice. He began moving Cole faster on his cock by his tight grip on his hair. Cole’s only response was to moan louder around him, his hands digging into Bull’s hips. Finally Iron Bull pulled him off and breathed out low when Cole whined in disappointment, his reddened mouth still open enough to be an invitation.

“On the bed. Now.” Iron Bull added the last bit sharply when Cole didn’t get up quickly enough and he slapped his round ass to move him onto the bed. Cole gasped when he struck him and Iron Bull wanted to spend a few hours just doing that, reddening up his tender human skin until he begged and cried. Instead he went to the edge of the bed, his trousers still hitched up enough that it made a nice contrast with Cole’s long, naked body. He pulled Cole towards him by his legs and whirled his thumbs a moment in the dips of his thin ankles as he thought. He finally nodded and then jutted his chin out to Cole. “On your stomach. I want to see if you’re ready for me.”

Cole scrambled over quickly but Bull still slapped one soft cheek of his ass, just to hear his moan at the sting and to remind him that he could always move faster. Demons could move like lightning.

Bull grabbed two healthy handfuls of his ass and spread him until he could plainly see his sweet, pink hole. He could have reached over to the dresser by the bed and gotten out some oil to drip over him, spreading it around and in with his fingers until Cole was shaking in anticipation but that earlier reminder of their first time filled Bull’s mind again. So instead he pulled up, effortlessly maneuvering Cole up to his knees and higher until he could get his tongue against him. 

“Oh, please,” Cole said and then groaned in surprise when Iron Bull pulled back enough to spank him again.

“Did I say you could talk?” And then he was back to lick at that tender spot until it was slick and Cole was nearly crying with over-stimulus, his hands pressed to his mouth. Bull frowned when he noticed and pulled away again. Slap. Moan. “Put your hands above your head.”

Cole nodded his head shakily in agreement and reached up towards the top of the bed, fingers straining towards the headboard. 

“You might be ready,” Iron Bull said in pretend contemplation, slipping his thumb over sensitive, slick flesh just to hear Cole’s frustrated cry. “Do you think you are? Nod if you think you’ve earned it.”

And Cole nodded so hard that it was a wonder he didn’t brain himself on the bed. Iron Bull let the sharp smirk he’d been feeling for the past several minutes spread across his face. He lowered Cole down until he was in a good spot for Bull to line his cock up to his ass. Only then did Bull look over to Red in the chair, wanting to know what he was thinking about all of this.

To his surprised irritation, Red wasn’t even looking at them. All of his attention seemed to be focused on the notes he was taking. It was typical of him. Even as a teenager Kaaras had always shown more interest in the mechanics and results of sex than in the release it provided. That had always seemed to be an afterthought with him.

Well, if Red wasn’t going to appreciate the pretty show his boy was giving him, then Bull wasn’t going to worry about it. It was his loss. Bull looked down, admired the long, expectant length of Cole’s body, and began pushing in. 

Definitely his fucking loss.

 

Varric hated the cold. Varric actually hated a lot of things, perhaps a few more than most people but certainly not as many as his companions suggested. He believed that he had a healthy dislike of the things that everybody probably also disliked. He was just more honest about it. That’s what writers did.

He supposed he could have asked Isabela to instruct her man to make his drop somewhere warmer but he was also a very agreeable man, a gentleman who would never dream of inconveniencing someone else.

Also it was closer to Skyhold and he hadn’t wanted to walk very far.

As Varric approached the drop, breathing heavily into his hands and trying to close up the loose parts of his shirt to protect his chest from the elements, he once again questioned this whole idea. Cassandra had been disturbingly civil to him the past few days. She hadn’t insulted him or bullied him or even harrumphed at him once and Varric could only assume that it was due to her desire to avoid any potential entanglements with him. Perhaps he should just accept the loss of the great sex and enjoy a Seeker who didn’t seem to spend her day tormenting him in particular.

Even as the thought crossed his mind again Varric began moving quicker towards the drop spot. He told himself that it was just because he was eager to get to a potential fire but deep down Varric knew that he wasn’t a great liar, except apparently to the one woman who seemed the most upset by his lies.

Varric went around a hill and saw a group of people crowded around the spot. Apparently two of the four people Isabela had sent were dwarves. The male dwarf had a head of bright red hair and one of those braided beards that Varric hated so much. A regular beard was bad enough; did he really have to spend every morning braiding one into intricate patterns? He was drinking from huge flagon and laughing uproariously. The other dwarf was beautiful despite the huge casteless tattoos covering her face. For a moment Varric admired how her body was reasonably proportioned and not elongated like a horrible limbed snake, like some women he knew.

To his surprise he recognized one of the humans, although he’d only met him briefly years ago. It had been near the same tunnels as that damned expedition with his brother and Hawke, the one that had started and ended everything. Nathan? Nicholas? Something like that.

The other human was facing the fire, his thick hood covering him as he spread his arms over the fire. As Varric came closer, the man stretched out his fingers and tendrils of fire magic slipped down and built the fire up higher. Only then did the man consent to pushing his hood back, revealing a light head of hair that was as unexpected as it was familiar.

Varric came to a stop just as the female dwarf saw him. She elbowed the red-haired man roughly and nodded towards him but Varric didn’t pay either of them any attention. All his focus was on the man who even now was only reluctantly turning towards him, his gaunt face tired and resigned as he looked at Varric.

“Blondie?” Varric let his arms fall to his side in shock, unsure if he should get closer or leave.

“Hello, Varric,” Anders said, his voice wary even as he attempted a wan smile. “It’s been a long time.”


End file.
